


Whispers of the Just

by rubyhardflames



Series: The Otherworlder [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Culture Talk, Ethnic OC, Hurt/Comfort, Modern Girl in Thedas, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 105,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyhardflames/pseuds/rubyhardflames
Summary: New allies and enemies await in a city of masks, along with dark secrets she thought were hidden away. And then comes along a new player: the Elder One. Continued in Exodus. *Rape/Non-con, Underage, & Miscarriage warning for Chapter 8*





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, like I promised :D. Enjoy, and lemme know what you think of this!

A cold mountain breeze whipped up the snow, stimulating flurries that danced about the horses' hooves. The beasts nickered softly in the watery afternoon light, and their tails swished good-naturedly as they ambled along the sloping trail. They were five in number and their riders rode them close together; the winds were blowing something fierce and they didn't wish to get lost in a blizzard, should one happen.

Luckily for them, their journey's end was right around the corner. After turning the bend they came to a frozen lake, lying placidly across from the frontier village of Haven. Another left turn some hundred yards down and the gates of Haven would be ready to receive them.

"Finally, we're home," Ahnnie breathed as the gate posts loomed into view. A puff of vapor escaped from her mouth with her breathy exhalation, clouding the air before her briefly.

"Interesting that you should call it home," Solas remarked. A snug winter cap covered his hairless head - such was the cold that not even he could withstand leaving it bare. "You've only stayed for two months."

"Well, what else can I call it? It's the first place I ever knew here."

"What's it that they say?" Blackwall pondered, his dark beard flecked with snow. "' _Home is where the heart is_ '."

"Change that to 'ale', and I'll be a happy man," Varric joked.

Ahnnie laughed. "Oh, come on, Varric - surely it's more than that. A place might have ale, but what if it's the most rundown shack in the world? With rats, and mold? Would you still stay?"

"I could say the same of a place full of 'heart'."

"Well...fine, can't argue with that." She took a deep sniff and rubbed some warmth into her frigid nose. "How about you, Solas, Cassandra? What defines home for you?"

"Oh, those two?" Varric shook his head. "Don't bother with them. Their hearts are made of ice."

"We can hear you, Varric," Cassandra reminded him.

The conversation ceased when the village gate was finally within reach. The guards swung it open as soon as they recognized the Seeker, elf, dwarf, and human girl - Blackwall was news to them, but then again, they'd been having some new faces pop up in Haven recently. New recruits for the Inquisition gathered from the Hinterlands, a Chantry nun by the name of Mother Giselle, and Horsemaster Dennet, to name a few.

The group were free to dismount as soon as they were within the village walls. Soldiers stood at the ready to take care of their horses and they gratefully took the chance to stretch their legs.

"Lady Seeker, Lady Herald," a soldier saluted Cassandra and Ahnnie smartly. "You're just in time."

"Yes?" Ahnnie asked, wondering what the occasion was. Come to think of it, she could hear the sound of a raucous crowd gathered in the upper tier.

The soldier faltered beneath Cassandra's glare. "There's a...conflict, in front of the Chantry, between some of our men and the...mages. Also, Chancellor Roderick has returned."

"Maker's breath," Cassandra cursed, and stormed up the path. Ahnnie trotted after the Seeker, a knot of anxious anticipation already forming in her stomach.

When they reached the Chantry entrance, they found the majority of Haven's population split into two sides: mage vs. templar, with a good number of the anti-mage civilians backed behind the templars.

"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" a templar barked, his voice hoarse against the howling wind. Voices of assent sounded from behind him, templar and civilian alike.

"Lies," a balding mage protested, and jabbed an accusatory finger at the templar. "Your kind let her _die_!"

The incensed templar grabbed the hilt of his sword. "Shut your mouth, mage!" He was halfway in withdrawing the weapon when Commander Cullen burst from the Chantry doors.

" _Enough!_ " Cullen shouted, pushing aside the two dissidents with rough shoves.

The templar stumbled back, and his face turned ashen when he saw who it was. "Knight-Commander," he gasped.

"That is _not_ my title," Cullen growled, his voice seething with rage. "We are _not_ Templars any longer. We are _all_ part of the Inquisition." He placed a special emphasis on 'all', glowering pointedly at both sides.

"And what does that mean, exactly?" a familiar pompous voice asked. The mousy face of Chancellor Roderick soon became visible as the crowd parted to let him through.

Ahnnie and Cassandra turned in his direction. "Back already, Chancellor?" Cassandra asked, her voice devoid of all warmth. "Haven't you done enough?"

Wrinkling his nose, the Chancellor shot back, "I'm curious, Seeker, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised." He cast a disgusted glance at the angry crowd around him, seeing wherever he turned the very chaos the Inquisition promised would not happen.

"Of course you are," Cullen muttered under his breath, and then clapped loudly for everyone's attention. "Right. Back to your duties! All of you!"

At the authoritative bite in the Commander's voice, the people dispersed and were cleared from the Chantry doorstep within a few minutes. Ahnnie watched them go, noting their disgruntled faces with a sinking heart. _We can't afford any infighting. Not at this time..._

The Commander shook his head as he addressed the girl. "Mages and templars were already at war; now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death."

Ahnnie sighed. "Everyone's always looking for someone to blame."

"Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order," put in Chancellor Roderick contemptuously.

"Who, you?" Cullen asked. "Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?"

Ahnnie stiffened. "Commander Cullen," she protested; she was aware she didn't have the force to chide him, but she knew matters could only get worse if they devolved into all-out name calling.

And yet, it had started anyway. "The rebel Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste'?" the Chancellor countered. "I think not."

"You put too much stock in your own failed ways without considering that the Inquisition is a new effort," Cassandra pointed out. "One small conflict, and you are ready to shoot it down as dysfunctional."

 _Oh Cassandra, not you too!_ With an aggravated _tsk_ , Ahnnie turned to face Roderick and make her own appeal. "Chancellor, we mean no disrespect. But you must give us a chance. The Inquisition's...the Inquisition's like a young family that just started. Sure, there may be some initial conflict, but as soon as things fall into place then everything goes more smoothly."

But the Chancellor looked at her as though she'd just said the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "How many families are on the verge of splitting into open warfare with themselves?" he asked her incredulously.

Ahnnie clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. _I can tell you of one,_ she wanted to say, but questioned the wisdom of it.

"Yes, because that would _never_ happen to the Chantry," Cullen drawled sarcastically, saving her the effort.

"Centuries of tradition will guide us," the Chancellor declared. "We are not the upstart, eager to turn over every apple cart."

"And _we_ are not old fools, too stubborn to see the problem before us," Cassandra retorted.

The Chancellor drew in a sharp breath, and it was clear he was readying a sharp rejoinder to this latest insult. As he was doing so, Cullen looked over to Ahnnie with an exasperated light in his eyes. "I will keep the peace while you and the others appeal to the Chantry in Val Royeaux," he promised her. "Though I should warn you that the Chancellor's a good indicator of what to expect there."

Ahnnie sighed again. She had already resigned herself to that fact, and tried not to think about it much. "Thanks," she said, smiling up at the Commander nonetheless. She had to appreciate his sincerity.

Meanwhile, the Chancellor chose to unload his frustration on her instead. "Better ready yourself for the blame that you will be rightly assigned," he spat, and then turned away to seek refuge from the wind and snow in the Chantry.

"Maker's breath," Cassandra muttered once he was gone. "Always has to have the last word, doesn't he?"

Ahnnie shrugged. "Perhaps he just thinks he's doing the right thing. You can't blame him for..." Catching movement from the corner of her eye, she looked up and noticed Blackwall standing off to the side, having witnessed most of what transpired. "Oh." She rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Um, sorry you had to see that. That's not what we're usually like. Honest."

Blackwall shrugged. "No organization's without its fair share of detractors. Happens all the time."

Remembering their newest member, Cassandra gestured him forward. "Come; let us get you settled within the Chantry. Sister Leliana would also like to speak with you."

Blackwall nodded stoically and followed the Seeker towards the sunburst emblazoned doors. Ahnnie fidgeted where she stood, itching to say something - she didn't want the Warden's first impression of the Inquisition to be a dour one. Before he could disappear behind the Chantry doors, she cupped her hands around her mouth. "Hey, when you're done, come join us over at the Singing Maiden!" she called after him, hoping her voice carried through the wind.

Before he disappeared into the Chantry halls, the Warden looked back over his shoulder and gave her a hearty nod.

* * *

 

"Your Ladyship!" Nala gushed, and rushed forward to embrace her.

" _Oof!_ " Ahnnie exclaimed, but returned the hug in earnest. "Hi, Nala. It's good to see you too," she smiled.

"Oh, Lady Ahnnie, your things are just as you left them," Nala jabbered on after she pulled away. "Your room has been cleaned, the sheets changed, hearth swept, oh, and rations restocked; everything has been in perfect order."

"Thank you, that's good to hear." But the state of her living quarters mattered little to her right now. "So, uh, Nala...why're you here at the tavern by yourself? Not that that's a problem, but you usually never come by."

The elven girl blushed. "Please don't misunderstand, Lady Ahnnie...it's...ah, perhaps you should come see it for yourself."

Ahnnie cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Please, come this way..." Her nervous hands gestured for Ahnnie to follow and they went up to the side door of the tavern. After they exited, Nala shut the door behind them and headed for the stables, steering towards a familiar stall that Ahnnie knew all too well.

Netta was inside, and when she heard the older girls approach, she turned around to face them. "You're back!" she beamed when she saw Ahnnie, and ran up to hug her legs.

"Hey, Netta," Ahnnie greeted back, patting the little girl on the shoulder. She knelt down to be level with the child's face. "Wow, you've gotten taller," she remarked with a hand atop the child's head.

Netta grinned. "Mama says I've grown an inch," she boasted. "Did you say hello to Lady yet? Come say hello to Lady!"

Ahnnie laughed. "I will, I will..." But when Netta moved away to reveal the dog they all knew and loved, Ahnnie's eyes widened. Her hand reached forward tentatively, and Lady was quick to assault it with licks, but she did not seem to register this as she stared at the dog's swollen belly. At last her fingers connected with the stomach, and she let out a gasp of wonder when she felt a flutter of movement.

"Lady's having puppies!" Netta giggled.

Ahnnie was barely aware of the stupid grin that had spread on her face. She looked up at Nala, who beamed back at her with just as much joy. "When did you notice this?" she asked the elf.

"I think she told Flissa three weeks ago," Nala speculated.

"And a bitch starts showing after the end of the first month," Ahnnie mumbled, remembering what she knew of canine pregnancies. "Oh my god. Lady could whelp at any moment!"

"Ah, so you know about that too, your ladyship?"

"Yes, my dog gave birth once before."

"How many puppies will she have?" Netta squealed excitedly.

Nala placed a restraining hand on the little girl's shoulder to keep her from jumping. "Like I've told you many times, Netta, it looks about three or four."

"How many puppies did your dog have?" Netta turned to Ahnnie.

Ahnnie smiled. "Nine," she answered with a measure of pride.

"Wow, that's a lot!"

"And _far_ too many for us to handle," Flissa interjected behind them. Ahnnie looked up to see the innkeeper's face looming above them at the stall door, shadowed by the gloom. Only the cold grey light reflected off the snow and a dim, fluttering lantern provided any illumination. "Welcome back, Herald of Andraste. I hope Netta hasn't been too much of a nuisance again."

"No, she's never a nuisance," Ahnnie objected, and stood up to properly greet the woman. "How's it been, Flissa? Business going good for you?"

Flissa smiled. "It's been fair enough." Then her eyes wandered down to Lady, and Ahnnie had the distinct feeling she was not as pleased about the pregnancy as her adopted daughter was.

Ahnnie exited the stall and gestured Flissa away. They stood a few stalls down from the other girls, speaking lowly so they would not hear. "It was quite a surprise, wasn't it?" Ahnnie asked her.

Flissa sighed. "You could say that again...I was not even aware that the dog was in heat...must've copulated with some stray around town. She gets to wander freely during the day, after all."

 _So that explains it._ Ahnnie tracked the dates in her mind, and estimated the time of mating to be some weeks before the trip to the Hinterlands. It wasn't a wonder no one noticed anything - Flissa would have been too busy with the management of her tavern, Ahnnie herself too preoccupied with her lessons, Netta too young to understand the significance, and the straw bedding too uneven to catch any spots of blood. Even if a strange smell was detected, they would have just chalked it up to unsanitary conditions.

"With new recruits and refugees coming in, I just don't know how we're going to scrounge enough food to feed a whole litter of pups," Flissa continued.

Ahnnie's gut twisted as she heard that familiar argument, used so many times before against her. But Flissa was not at fault; unlike some people, Flissa actually had a legitimate concern. "I'll think of something," she promised the innkeeper emptily, not quite certain of just what she would do. "And besides, Nala says it looks like a small litter. Given Lady's size, that makes sense. My dog is much bigger, on the other hand."

That seemed to take some of the edge off her worries. With a careful nod and a 'by your leave', Flissa walked back into the tavern. Ahnnie watched her weary feet trudge through the snow, then looked back towards Lady's stall, listening to Netta's delighted giggles and squeals. _Whatever happens,_ she promised herself, _I'm not going to let any of those pups die. I'm not going to let Netta's smiles turn into sobs. No one's going to feel burdened by their existence...not if I can do something about it.  
_

"Oh, Ahnnie?"

She whirled her head back in the direction of the tavern. The silhouette of Flissa's upper body was peeking through the side door. "A soldier came by looking for you. You're needed at the Chantry."

 _And back to work I go._ "Tell him I'm coming," she replied, and went back to Lady's stall to let the girls know.

* * *

 

One of the first people Ahnnie saw upon entering the Chantry was Mother Giselle. She couldn't help but smile as the kindly Chantry Mother inquired after her well-being and allowed herself to lapse into a short conversation. Mother Giselle had left the Hinterlands for Haven before Ahnnie and the others could, so this was the first time since their last talk that they had met. Their talk was mostly pleasantries, although there were several allusions to the trip to Val Royeaux.

"Maker be with you, child," Mother Giselle blessed her when she had to go.

"You too, Mother Giselle," Ahnnie returned, and paced down the hall towards the door of the council room.

But when she entered, she realized it wasn't so much a council room anymore as it was a war room. The map that draped the long table in the middle was dotted with pawn-like figurines, and the rest of the room was devoid of extraneous furniture, chairs especially, which was a key indicator that the map was meant to be considered whilst standing, not sitting.

The only other person besides Ahnnie herself was Leliana. The spymaster had been observing a pawn in her hand before she noticed the girl's entrance. "Ah, you're here," she remarked, her voice as melodious as ever.

Ahnnie approached the table and looked around the room. "Did you need me for something?"

"Yes, but we're still waiting for Josephine, Cassandra, and Cullen."

 _So this is serious._ She wondered what it was about. In the meantime, she decided to ask the spymaster about Blackwall. "Did you find out anything about him? Was there something that we might have missed?"

Leliana shook her head. "It seems he truly knows nothing about the disappearance of the Grey Wardens. It's a disappointment. I am, however, glad that he is with us, even if he was...not what I expected." She turned her gaze upon the map as she put the pawn back down, but continued, "He seems to be a good man and his experience will be an asset to the Inquisition. As for the other Wardens, I suppose we will have to keep looking."

"I wonder what happened," Ahnnie thought aloud. She didn't know much about the Wardens, just what Solas told her back when she was clueless about Thedas. They fought darkspawn whenever they appeared, and had gained renown for defeating every Blight, but beyond that she had no way of understanding the significance of their mass disappearance. She only knew it seemed very funky for so many of them, supposedly unassuming and solitary people, to go missing at once.

Her thoughts were directed from the Grey Wardens when the door opened and Josephine entered. "Greetings, Lady Ahnnie," the Antivan woman smiled, her perfect teeth sparkling in the candlelight.

Following shortly afterwards were Cullen and Cassandra. Now that the gathering was complete, they could get down to business. Today's agenda: the pending trip to Val Royeaux.

"Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea," Josephine began.

"You can't be serious," Cullen protested. "I know it's probably been arranged, but that still doesn't make it a good idea."

"Mother Giselle isn't wrong; at the moment, the Chantry's only strength is that they are united in opinion."

"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?" Leliana challenged.

Josephine looked over at Ahnnie. "Let's ask her."

Ahnnie had not expected to be involved so soon in the talk, but was quick to voice her honest opinion. "It's mostly going to be talk. Other than harsh words, I don't think there's much to worry about."

"Do not underestimate the power of their words," Leliana warned. "An angry mob will do you in just as quickly as a blade."

Ahnnie scratched the back of her head. "Well...I guess, but...I've got to go. It's necessary, isn't it? I can't just decide not to at the last minute."

Cassandra stepped closer to Ahnnie. "I will go with you," she said to the girl. And to Leliana, "Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them."

The spymaster frowned and shook her head. "But why? This is nothing but a-"

"What choice do we have, Leliana?" Cassandra interrupted. "Right now we can't approach anyone for help with the Breach." She next addressed the advisors in general, instructing them, "Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through."

 _Cassandra is_ definitely _the leader of the Inquisition,_ Ahnnie thought as she listened to the Seeker. Leliana didn't argue back, and even Cullen seemed mollified. Josephine, who had been partial to the trip in the first place, began scribbling some notes on her writing board in acknowledgement of Cassandra's statement. "Ah, yes, I will also be going with you," she added to Ahnnie, pointing at the girl with the feathered tip of her quill.

"Really?" Ahnnie asked. "Why?"

"Val Royeaux is not just the religious capital of the Chantry," Josephine explained. "It is the capital city of Orlais - the center of the Grand Game. You do remember what I told you of speaking to nobility in our diplomacy lesson?" When she nodded, Josephine continued, "The Game is much like that, but more complex. With what little practice you have, you will not be able to navigate its machinations very smoothly."

"It's just the Chantry clerics," Ahnnie reminded her, feeling uneasy at the mention of the Game.

"Yes, but your presence in Val Royeaux might pique the interest of those outside the Chantry. Lady Cassandra is a stalwart protector, of that I have no doubt." Josephine nodded pleasantly at the Seeker. "But when it comes to the nuances of diplomacy, I am better suited for giving you advice. It is also a good chance to spread our influence and possibly garner some favors amongst the city's powerful."

The girl felt more at ease with this explanation and could see the wisdom in having someone like Josephine along. Once that was finished, Leliana took her aside to show her the route she would be taking.

"You'll be heading along this road, skirting Lake Calenhad and then northeasterly through Gherlen's Pass to the port city of Jader. That should take you roughly eight to ten days. Then you will go by ship, and depending on the wind and vessel, you might reach Val Royeaux anywhere from two days and a half to one day and a half. We've not yet determined exactly when you will leave, but we will let you know beforehand."

Ahnnie nodded absentmindedly, retracing the routes with her eyes. _I didn't know the Orlesian border was so close to the Frostbacks,_ she remarked, for Jader was an Orlesian city. _That's pretty cool._ At the same time, she had mixed feelings about another trip out of Haven. _I hope I don't have to leave too soon. I'd like to stay and rest awhile._ At least this trip included ship travel, which added some variety. She'd only been on one once, a cruise liner when she was ten, and hoped this ship wouldn't be one of those dirty cramped vessels she read about in history class.

"I'll send some soldiers with you," Cullen then decided. "We'd want to make an impression with our men and it'd put me more at ease about the whole affair."

Josephine nodded. "I shall see to the arrangements."

Then Ahnnie thought of an idea, and asked, "Could I bring other people with me too?"

Cullen mulled it over. "I don't see why not, as long as they're willing. Might spare me some men if they're any good with a sword."

"Sounds great," Ahnnie smiled.

* * *

 

She twisted the doorknob and opened the door, sniffing deeply at the familiar scents within. Closing the door behind her, Ahnnie kicked off her boots and flopped stomach first onto her bed. The cabin was dark and the fireplace unlit, but she wanted a moment's rest before seeing to all that. With a contented sigh she closed her eyes, feeling comfortable atop the blanket and pillow. They weren't the best, but they were certainly softer than a bedroll on the ground.

 _This is the life,_ she thought.

She had gone to the Singing Maiden right after the meeting, but Blackwall wasn't there, and neither was Varric for that matter, so she did the first thing that came to mind and that was to head back to her cabin. She regretted the decision not at all and flipped over onto her back before swinging to her feet and grabbing hold of the flints and some logs. Within seconds a fire began to grow, and she stretched out her hands to warm them in its heat.

When it burned bright enough, she took her journal and a graphite pencil from the desk and sat before the fire to write, draw, read - whatever she felt like doing in that moment. But one thing was clear, and that was that she felt safe and fulfilled.

For she was at home.


	2. Winter Hunting

Ahnnie was of the belief that her schedule would fall back into its previous rhythm, keeping her busy and exhausting her energies by the end of the day. For once, she was given a day's break to rest from the trip, and found that she knew not what to do with it. Where she previously would have welcomed this chance to do nothing, she now itched to be doing _something_. Specifically something that kept her physically afoot. The time spent working in the Hinterlands had became a force of habit.

Word was going round town that the people were commencing on the construction of a stables and forge outside Haven's walls. Now that Dennet was here, there was a bigger need for more stable space, and he wanted to oversee this stable's completion before bringing his precious horses up the mountains. Weapons were also in bigger demand thanks to the new recruits, so a second forge was necessary for keeping up a steady stream of production. That was where Ahnnie decided she wanted to be.

The guards greeted her cheerfully as she went by the open gates. The raw, woody smell of freshly cut timber greeted her nose as she walked down the path. Tinged by the cold, it carried a crisp afterscent in the air that was not unpleasant.

"Heave!" a foreman cried to her left. "Steady!"

The girl approached the site, stopping at a respectful and safe distance away from the workers. She watched as the hefty builders erected the bare bones of a rigid wooden frame, now a jutting skeleton with no definite purpose but soon to be a wide and comfortable structure that many horses would call home. Stones brought down from the quarries would be made into a low wall enclosing the forge, and the stacks of branches off to the side would be destined for the creation of a small paddock.

 _There must be something I can do,_ she thought, seeing that even those of a slighter build had tasks delegated to them, such as fetching tools or aiding in the placement of smaller pieces. With that in mind, she tucked her hair beneath her cap. _No use sticking out as the Herald of Andraste right now..._

"Mornin', Blackwall."

"Morning."

Upon hearing Blackwall's name, Ahnnie whirled around to locate the source of the voices behind her. She soon spotted the Grey Warden on the path beside a gangly man, equipped with a longbow, quiver, and a pack slung over his shoulder. They seemed to know each other and were conversing with familiarity, although Blackwall was more reserved and it grew apparent that they only knew each other because the man was one of many Blackwall had helped out when the Breach struck.

"I lost my home and everything I had in the Hinterlands," the man was saying, "but you saved my life, and I'm here now with a greater sense of purpose. I didn't think you'd be here as well, but you're just what the Inquisition needs. I pray they find more people like you."

"Mm," Blackwall nodded.

When the man left, Ahnnie ran up to Blackwall before he could leave. "Hello," she greeted him.

If her approach surprised him, he did not show it. "Good morning," he returned, his gruff voice nonchalant.

"How are you?"

"Fine," he shrugged. "You?"

"Same." Her eyes wandered to his equipment. "Are you going somewhere?"

The Warden looked briefly at his bow and pack before turning back to her. "Thought I'd do a little hunting. The people could use some more meat in their diets."

Ahnnie nodded. "That's true." She took a sniff of the frigid mountain air before asking, "Crazy question, but...could I go with you?"

Blackwall regarded her for a moment, and then shrugged. "As long as you keep quiet."

"I will," she promised, and they set off for the woods around Haven.

* * *

 

"Tie up that snare with a knot...little more to the left...all right, leave it there. That's good."

Ahnnie rose to her feet, dusting off her hands. "Another one?" she asked the Warden, but he shook his head.

"That's enough for this area. Wouldn't want to scare off the game with too many." Blackwall stepped over a fallen log and trudged through the undergrowth in what Ahnnie believed was an easterly direction. Then he paused, and stooped low to the ground. "Hmm..." He was observing a small scattering of black nut-like specks in the snow.

"What is it?" Ahnnie asked, tilting her head around his to get a better look.

"Deer droppings," he replied, and spotted some fresh tracks not too far away. "If we follow that now, we might just catch ourselves a good buck."

She thought he was referring to money only for a split second and eagerly trailed behind him as he started after the deer tracks. "You can tell a deer's gender by its tracks?" she asked, wondering how that worked. The tracks alongside them looked like regular hoofprints to her.

"It's not always a foolproof method," he explained, "but you can, more or less. Bucks make deeper tracks and have longer strides. They move in a single direction without many breaks, whereas does often stop to take a bite here and there. They also tend to relieve themselves on the go...if you know what I mean."

"...I see..."

They emerged into a clearing where the tracks had been sprinkled over by snow dropped from overhanging branches. Blackwall stopped to discern the buck's path beyond this interruption, and was off again within the minute. Ahnnie marveled at his ability to zero in on details that seemed at first to be of no significance; a broken branch here meant something, as did a clump of leaves there, or a tiny, almost imperceptible tuft of fur. But then, if he previously lived as solitary as a life as he claimed, it was no surprise that he possessed such skills. He wouldn't have been able to survive otherwise.

Suddenly, Blackwall held up a hand to signal her to stop. Ahnnie paused, almost daring not to breathe.

The Warden held up his bow and slowly withdrew an arrow from the quiver. With another signal to tell Ahnnie to stay put, he stalked amongst the trees, making barely any noise as he maneuvered towards his target.

The girl scanned the trees before her in an attempt to find what Blackwall had spotted, almost missing the greyish-brown torso visible between the trunks in the process. The animal was not only a fair distance away but well-blended with the scene; Ahnnie would not have registered it as a living creature had it not moved its legs. When she looked around for Blackwall, she found he had disappeared somewhere beyond her vision, but did not doubt that he still held the deer in his sights.

 _Twang!_ Just as she was getting used to the silence, an arrow made its whistling flight through the air. Ahnnie heard rustling up ahead as the buck dashed off, either alerted or struck by the arrow. Blackwall was in pursuit a moment later, and Ahnnie decided to follow him since being silent wasn't such a priority anymore.

But when Ahnnie reached him, she saw a disappointed look on his face and no deer.

"Tch," Blackwall cursed. "Lost 'im." The arrow he had loosed was embedded in a tree trunk instead, and Blackwall jerked it out for inspection. "Missed him by a hair," he mumbled, and tossed the arrow when he deemed it unfit for reuse.

"It's okay," Ahnnie assured him. "It happens. Right?"

"More often than you'd think," he affirmed, and they retraced their previous line of travel. "We'll set some more traps to the east, and see if we can't find him again."

It was around noon by the time they decided to take a break, seating themselves on some fallen logs. Blackwall unhooked a waterskin from his belt and took a drink. After he wiped excess water off his beard, he offered the skin to her. "Thirsty?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Ahnnie rejected politely, iffy at the thought of drinking from the same skin. She noticed it wasn't a big deal here in Thedas, but it still was to her even after all this time.

"Stay right here," he then said after he put the skin away. "I'll go check a few traps. Be back shortly."

When he returned, he had two lean squirrels in hand, and told her to set up a fire. Remembering what Cassandra taught her, Ahnnie scrounged up as much fire-material as she could, and had the wood set up in five minutes or so. Blackwall gave her flints to start up a flame while he set to work dressing the squirrels, and a merry blaze crackled before them not too long after. After finding some suitable sticks to set up a spit, the squirrel carcasses were speared and cooking over the flames.

"Maker, look at it. So much easier to ignore when it's far away."

"Hmm?" Ahnnie looked up from tending to the roast. She then saw what Blackwall was talking about. Visible through the crown of trees above was the sickly green glow of the Breach. It pulsed eerily in the distance above the mountain peaks, tall and menacing. If she listened carefully, she thought she could hear the stormy rush of wind that accompanied its swirling movements.

"To actually walk out of it, to be that close..." Blackwall trailed off and redirected his gaze at her.

She gave him brief smile. "I was just lucky. Even I don't know how I managed it. If no one was there to find me..." She wasn't so sure she would have survived.

Blackwall sighed. "The Breach, the Divine's death, the Wardens - it doesn't make sense. There's so much we don't know."

"It must have been very confusing," she sympathized with him. "All these things, happening at once...even if I'm not from here, I can tell how discouraging it is." She was surprised to hear herself confessing that; not too long ago, she was mostly thinking about her own welfare. Shaking her head, she told Blackwall, "Anyway, I'm sure you can help us get to the bottom of this. Your experience with the Wardens will be useful."

"Mostly the treaties, I expect. Old parchments you're welcome to."

"Thank you; I'll remember that," she nodded.

Blackwall then leaned over to inspect the squirrels. "Almost done," he estimated. "Give them a few more minutes. These things aren't that thick, so they'll be ready soon." When he leaned back, he watched her hands as she rolled the spit, and then asked, "So, what about you? How do you fit into all this?"

"Huh?" Ahnnie asked, rather taken aback by the question. "Like...what do you mean?"

"What are your thoughts on the matter?" he rephrased.

"Oh. Well." She shrugged. "It's bad, and it should end soon. I want to help stop it, help restore order, and then go home."

Blackwall nodded. "A worthy goal, I suppose. For me, I'll be satisfied so long as we find the bastards that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers."

"They certainly do," she agreed bitterly, for whoever those 'bastards' were, they had placed her in this situation and made her go through some of the most confusing moments of her life. _I mean, who wakes up one day expecting to land in a completely different world, attacked by demons on the spot and burdened by huge responsibilities right after?_ It just wasn't right.

No more remarks were made about the Breach and its circumstances as the squirrels neared perfection. The savoury smell of the meat was tantalizing, making her mouth water as it tickled the edges of her nostrils. Blackwall immediately brought up two long and thin sticks to act as skewers, then had Ahnnie hold them ready as he carefully slid the squirrels off the spit.

" _Hup_!" Blackwall exclaimed as the first squirrel missed the end of the skewer; Ahnnie had let her thoughts drift and was not holding the skewer correctly. Startled into action, she jolted after the falling carcass, the skewers held in her hand as though to jab the meat midair. She succeeded in catching the squirrel's hind leg between the points of the skewers, hand poised in a way she had not used in a while but would, perhaps, never forget as long as she lived.

"Phew," she sighed in relief. "That was a close one..." Daintily, she gripped the stub of the leg bone between two fingers and transferred the hot squirrel onto a skewer, as it should have been in the first place. With a sheepish smile, she held out the second one for Blackwall to transfer the next carcass onto. "My bad," she apologized.

Blackwall chuckled. "It didn't fall to the ground - that's all that matters." As he slid off the second squirrel, he commented, "Nice handwork, by the way. Never thought of using sticks like that."

"Ah," Ahnnie nodded. "Where I come from, we've got these two sticks we use to eat with. They're called 'chopsticks' in Common." She was careful enough by now to remember the distinction between 'English' and 'Common' here. "Usually they're smaller for regular eating, but they can be as long as this for cooking. Particularly stir-frying. They also have tapered ends, which makes them easier to use."

"What're they called in your language?"

" _Đôi đũa_ ," she answered before handing Blackwall one of the skewers and settling back to enjoy her share.

 _Mm_ , she sighed as her teeth sank into the toasty hot flesh. Though it was roasted as-is with no seasoning, the meat was full of its own flavor, more tender than chicken and sweeter to the taste. Since these squirrels were rather skinny, there was not as much of a richness to them, but their juiciness more than made up for it and they proved to be a sufficient lunch for the pair.

They buried the bones beneath some dirt and leaves and sat before the fire, waiting for it to die out. With warm food in their bellies, the winter air didn't seem nearly as nippy as before. There was a strange sort of satisfaction as Ahnnie watched the flames dwindle, sitting quiet and still like the silent forest around her.

"I don't mean to pry," Blackwall began, breaking the silence, "but on the topic of where you come from, I've been hearing that it's another world."

It took an effort to pry her gaze away from the embers. "Where have you been hearing that, if I may ask?"

The Warden shrugged. "The soldiers, the villagers; pretty much everybody back at Haven."

 _Do the people in the Hinterlands say so as well?_ she wondered, but never phrased that question. Instead, she answered simply, "Yeah."

Everything was quiet once more, until Blackwall cleared this throat. "How different was Thedas for you?"

"Very different," she confessed. "I mean, the moment I woke up, I had this thing on my hand and then I had to fight demons...those things don't exist back where I come from. Neither does magic, for that matter." She wondered how much of this he believed, but went on anyway, "At the same time it was like being blasted into the past. A lot of the stuff here resembles what my world was like hundreds of years ago."

'My world', as if the whole of Earth was a possession of hers; in a way, she supposed, it was. Earth was her secret domain, a mysterious place the inhabitants of Thedas could wonder and marvel at because of the status of its otherworldly visitor. Earth was reflected in her appearance: in the color of her skin, structure of her cheeks, and the shape of her eyes, though she was only representative of a small portion of its many people. Earth was present in her beliefs and values, in her deeply held thoughts and way of speaking.

And Earth was so far away. For how long would that be? _Several more months? Years, even?_

She was glad for the chance to put that question behind her when the fire died out and Blackwall kicked the ashes away.

The snares yielded a modest amount of game. As they went back to check on the traps, they would find various little woodland animals ensnared within: three hares, five squirrels, three fat quails, and a particularly lucky string of four pheasants in one spot.

Blackwall bagged the dead animals in his pack. He'd been able to find two more squirrels when he checked on the traps that yielded their lunch earlier, so the kill count now went up to seventeen creatures. Each animal had died almost immediately after being snared, for that was how he intended it. But after he bagged the third pheasant, he noticed the fourth was still alive. The noose had not wound its neck as tightly and it was flapping frantically in an effort to free itself.

"What should we do?" Ahnnie asked, a bit distressed by the sight.

"Easy." Blackwall knelt down and grabbed the frightened bird by the neck. With a twist of his hand, he snapped it clean and the flapping was no more.

Without even knowing it, Ahnnie held a hand to her neck, unnerved by the _crack_ that so easily ended the little life in front of them. The pheasant was tossed into the pack as casually as the others and Blackwall walked off without a second thought to begin another round of the traps, checking to see if the empty ones captured new victims. When they still came up empty, Blackwall decided to call it a day and led the way back to Haven. But just as they were returning to the path, he spotted the buck again, and notched another arrow to his bow to see if he would be lucky this time around.

He was, striking cleanly behind the left foreshank where the heart was situated. The doomed buck made a startled leap in the air before tumbling down lifelessly. Blackwall then turned to the girl with something of a grin on his face.

"Go back to Haven," he told her, "and tell them to send out some people to help carry back the meat. We've got a big catch on our hands."

"On it," she nodded, and started away eagerly, glad she didn't have to be present for the carnage.

* * *

 

Visiting the Singing Maiden was like going over to the house of a rambling relative. Bad jokes, winded tales, and raucous laughter were the norm, but the atmosphere was cheery and the food, good. _It's good to be back_ , Ahnnie thought as she settled down with Varric and Blackwall at a table. There was also something of the eating-out atmosphere from Earth even though she rarely ordered food here, having no coins of her own and not wishing to freeload.

"What will you have?" Flissa asked them shortly after they sat down.

The two men ordered ale and beer, whereas Ahnnie settled on water, as per usual.

"You're always drinking water," Varric protested. "Try a beer instead. My treat."

She shook her had. "No, I - I couldn't. Thanks, but...but I couldn't."

"Get 'er a beer, Flissa," Varric ordered anyway.

"No!" Ahnnie negated. "Cancel that. Water." Turning to Varric, she explained, "I've never, um, had beer before. I'm not old enough to."

At this, Blackwall and Varric exchanged glances, then turned back to her. "Says who?" the dwarf asked at last.

"Says the law. I have to be twenty-one..." Then she faltered. "Where I come from, anyway."

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, did you know that in some cities, the water's so undrinkable everyone just drinks beer instead? Even the kids?"

Ahnnie blinked. "Wh-what?"

"Small beer," Blackwall clarified. "It has less alcohol than the stronger stuff."

"Well?" Flissa asked, clearly enjoying this exchange.

"Get her an ale, then," Varric corrected. "It'd probably be more palatable."

"Two ales, one beer...got it."

Ahnnie reached after the innkeeper. "No, Flissa!" But it was too late; the woman was gone in a zip to get their mugs. "Gee, thanks Varric," she said sarcastically. She straightened in her seat and huffed. "What's the difference between ale and beer anyway? I always thought they were the same."

Varric shrugged. "They're both made from grain, but ale's sweeter and brewed at warmer temperatures without hops."

 _...whatever that means._ "I'm not going to get drunk, am I?" she then asked, sounding worried. What did being drunk even feel like? Would she start acting stupidly? God forbid she made a laughingstock of herself in front of the entire tavern! It'd be the talk of Haven for months!

"Not as quickly as if you drank wine," Blackwall assured her. "Don't worry, we'll stop you before you consume too much."

When the drinks came out, Ahnnie felt as though the executioner had come to deliver her doom at the chopping block. She stared bewilderingly into the mug in front of her as though expecting a monster to leap out from it at any moment. She bent her head towards it, sniffing uncertainly. _Smells kind of buttery...maybe even fruity..._

"It's not gonna bite," Varric chuckled before downing some of his own drink.

 _I hope,_ she thought, and steadily began to hold the mug in her hands. She blew a little on the froth and watched it make a small hole, revealing a dark caramel-colored liquid within. Squinting studiously into that window of liquid, she saw tiny bubbles rising to the surface. _So it's carbonated_ , she deduced, but she didn't know how much. She aimed a quick glance upwards at the men before her, saw that they were watching, and looked back down at her drink.

"All right, here goes nothing," she muttered, and lifted the mug to her lips.

What followed was a curious sensation. No, she did not get drunk right away, but as the ale slid down her throat it felt like downing warm soda with light carbonation. The taste was grainy, striking a strange balance between sweet and bitter...not exactly the best in the world, but one she could strangely tolerate.

" _Oho!_ " Ahnnie coughed after finishing that sip. Her mouth was still tingling with the warmth, and a sort of fumy, heady essence could be tasted at the back of her tongue. It was not that it was too much for her to handle; more like too strange, too new.

"Well?" Varric asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Ahnnie wiped her mouth and stared down at her mug. "It's not that bad," she admitted. "And it's different, but I guess...I kind of like it..."

He gave her an I-told-you-so look and raised his drink in the air. "Here's to a good day's hunt," he declared. "I heard you shot down the biggest buck Haven's ever seen."

"It wasn't that big," Blackwall deflected. "They just haven't seen some good meat in a while." But he raised his glass nonetheless.

Ahnnie looked from dwarf to bearded human and tentatively raised hers as well. "Cheers," she said, and took another swig.

* * *

 

"Hey, Flissa, get her another one."

"On the double, Master Tethras."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Blackwall inquired.

"A second mug can't hurt," Varric shrugged.

Ahnnie giggled. "Okay, one more."

The innkeeper beckoned a serving girl over, who took the empty mug away and went to fetch a new one. Ahnnie meanwhile sat complacently in her seat, feeling rosy and warm and contented in a way she'd never been before. She felt the buzz more acutely in her head, particularly around the temples and cheeks - a numbing sensation, like padded cushions, smoothing the jagged boundary between thought and reality. Elsewhere, movement felt light as a feather and slow as syrup at the same time.

Most of all, she couldn't stop smiling. It was practically her default resting face at this point. The moment she straightened her mouth in an attempt to look serious, up it would curve again, and she laughed even when Varric wasn't joking.

Her second mug of ale was soon deposited beside her and she clutched it almost immediately. She took a sip, smacked her lips, and settled the mug down, suddenly taken in with the contours of the wooden table below them. They looked like the waves of the sea...

"Eey, speaking of the sea," Ahnnie suddenly blurted out, "anyone up for a trip to Val Royeaux?"

There was a momentary pause, which Varric quickly broke. "Well, sure, captain," he jested. "When do we set sail?"

She made a face at him. "C'mon, I'm being serious...anyway, I dunno when we're leaving. But it's the thing with the Chantry, you know? I gotta go talk to them...And I can use some people who know how to fight with swords."

"Of course. You never know when those Chantry clerics decide to get tough. They might even use a verse or two from the Chant of Light."

And just like that, she was laughing all over again. "Va-Varric!" Ahnnie protested, practically breathless.

At least Blackwall took her seriously. "You're expecting trouble in Val Royeaux?"

"Aeesh," a sound with the same meaning as a _tsk_ , "Commander Cullen just said I should bring people with swords. Something about...he didn't want to be too worried." Then she took another drink, a big gulp this time.

"I've nothing better to do," Blackwall then said. "Might as well come along."

"Who else are you inviting to your little party?" Varric couldn't help but continue teasing.

"I was thinking maybe Solas...I haven't talked to him in a while..." While that was not a hundred percent true, things seemed strained between them. At least, they did to Ahnnie. The elf seemed more reserved than before, not necessarily cold but not quite as open, especially when talking of magic or the Fade. Then again it was probably her guilty conscience agonizing itself over what she said the day they met Blackwall.

"An elven apostate, in the capital of the Chantry? Scandalous!"

"Yeah, well, who gives a shit?" Ahnnie suddenly bit back. "It's twenty sixteen! People should stop being fucking racists, for crying out loud!" When she realized what she'd just said a moment later, she clamped a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god," she slurred, still capable of social awareness despite her little slip-up. "Did...did anyone hear that?"

When she looked around the room and saw some patrons frowning, others attempting to stifle their laughter, she hid her face in her arms. "Oh my god..." _This was exactly what I didn't want happening,_ she mentally lamented. While her physical actions may not have been so composed, she found that her mental capacity was mostly intact - even if it didn't have much of a say over her decisions anymore.

Varric's eyes crinkled with mirth. "You tell them, Ahnnie," he chuckled. "Make them quake in their robes."

She held her hands up in apology. "Ey, I didn't mean to, I swear..."

Blackwall shook his head at her when he saw how distressed she seemed. "You're fine," he assured her. "And you're right. People shouldn't discriminate so much. Haven't a clue what the number two thousand sixteen means for this, though," he added in a quiet mumble. "Anyway. Solas is all right. It's not like there're no elves in Val Royeaux. They're just...not respected, is all."

Ahnnie frowned as she lifted her mug to her lips again. "That's gonna change," she promised them in an almost prophetic manner. To emphasize her point, she jabbed an impious index finger at them. "Just you wait n' see...one day, it'll all be different..."

This time she spoke more quietly, so that only Blackwall and Varric could hear. Which was just as well, for they knew some of the people of Haven weren't all that partial to elves either. The discrimination was present even within Ferelden, where elves were still segregated into city alienages and more or less looked down upon in the countryside.

"If you're looking for people with swords, why're you asking me?" Varric then asked to change the subject. His voice was still light and teasing, and it both amused and annoyed her at the same time.

"Who cares about swords?" she rebutted. "That's just what the Commander said. As long as you can knock out a bad guy, you're okay with me..."

Blackwall leaned over towards her and checked her mug. "Perhaps you've had too much," he suggested, sliding it away from her.

"It's just a few more ounces," she protested. "Lemme finish it."

"It's half a mug," he corrected her. "You look like you've had enough, anyways."

"How many fingers am I holding?" Varric asked, holding up his index and middle.

"Two, duh," she answered impetuously. "I'm not _that_ drunk!"

"Yet," Blackwall said, and stood up from his seat. "Can you stand? I think you should return to your cabin now."

"Of course I can!" Ahnnie shot up as quickly as she could, as though that could prove to Blackwall how much control she still had. But when she took a step to the side, the ground lurched beneath her and threatened to give way. Her head, suddenly unstable on her neck, felt like it was going to roll off. Before she could fall, the Warden caught her by the arm.

"I'm taking you back to your cabin," he decided with finality.

"No need for that, Master Blackwall," Flissa interjected, appearing by his side as though by magic. "I'll take her up to my room. She can rest there for the night. Save yourself the trouble."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," the innkeeper affirmed. "I'll take her up right now. Please, sit down, and let me know if you need anything else when I get back, all right?" When the Warden seated himself again, Flissa turned back to Ahnnie and led her up the stairs, carefully supporting her lest she slip and fall. After the Herald of Andraste's head finally hit the pillow, she was out faster than Flissa could blow the candle. The short haired woman smiled and tucked her into bed before making her way downstairs again.


	3. Surprises

Flissa was up and about at the crack of dawn, seeing to the business of her tavern. She was not expecting many patrons so early in the morning, or during much of the daylight hours, for that matter; before and after the disaster of the Conclave, the greatest hours of business were the ones closest to the day's end. But things had changed, and the Singing Maiden now served a double purpose as the haunt of Inquisition soldiers and refugees. While most of the latter could rely on the charity of the Chantry, the Singing Maiden provided a jovial atmosphere that was so painfully lacking in their lives. Sometimes when the Chantry kitchens were over capacity, a few of the flock would head to the tavern, the only other place besides compassionate locals to find any nourishment. Flissa couldn't bring herself to demand any coin from them, especially the youngsters.

The former were a hardier bunch, but no less welcome. They weren't free to frequent her establishment as often as they'd like, but whenever they did come, they paid well and spread hope for a better future with their presence. They were a symbol of the Inquisition's growing power, a symbol of better times to come and order to be restored. They also saved her the trouble of hiring bouncers when things got rowdy. Netta liked to talk to them, to ask them about their day and listen to their stories. Many of them were new recruits, so they had not much experience fighting for the Inquisition in other places, but on lucky days the veterans would be there and recount their adventures to the little girl - both of their time in the Inquisition, and before. As a result, Netta became something of a mascot to them, a little plaything they would spoil from time to time.

Flissa gave the dining area a cursory glance before turning round the corner into the kitchen. The floors and the hearth had been swept by one of the serving girls before closing time and looked as immaculate as remote mountain village tavern could get. There had been no broken furniture in the past three months, much the woman's satisfaction.

 _That's how it should be,_ she thought. _Extra costs aside, I can't serve Sister Leliana well with a tavern of ill repute. That would not do._ She used to act as an informant to the spymaster back when she managed an inn in Denerim. When Leliana offered her the chance to own her own establishment, she jumped at the opportunity regardless of its location. Ever since she took control, she promised to run the Singing Maiden to the utmost of her ability; doing otherwise would have made her feel like an ingrate.

"Morning, Osbert," she greeted as she entered the small kitchen; it was alternately walled with wood and plaster to decrease the chances of catching fire. "Smells divine. A new special?"

"Morning, Fliss," the squat middle-aged man greeted back. He had a bald pate ringed by a crown of rough, black hair and a short beard connected to a mustache on his upper lip. "As special as I can make it," he then said in response to her question. "Got a share of the venison the Grey Warden shot the other day...it ain't gonna last, but it's going to make a fine meal."

"I don't doubt it. Everyone loves your cooking." A knowing smile played on Flissa's face. "The Herald of Andraste called it the best she ever tasted."

"In her life," Osbert pointedly added, and his voice was swollen with pride.

"Get a bowl ready for her breakfast, then," the innkeeper said. "She stayed the night upstairs and will probably wake up soon."

At that, Osbert started fussing over the pot anew, paying extra attention to the flavors and ingredients as though his life depended on it.

Flissa exited the kitchen and set to work opening the shutters, letting the early morning light fall upon the stones in a soft, milky glow. The serving girls would be here soon to assist Osbert and do another sweep-over of the floor before strewing the rushes. When all the windows were no longer shuttered, she unlocked the tavern door, officially opening it up for business. Then she went to her place behind the bar, sorting out freshly cleaned mugs and cups and giving them yet another careful wipe. The action may have been unnecessary but to Flissa, it was safe and familiar, a ritual that began her day and gave her leave to let her thoughts drift.

Just then, the tavern door opened. _A customer, so soon?_ she wondered, and looked up from her wiping.

In the doorway stood a windswept young man, dressed in traveling clothes and a thick cloak. His face was reddened from the cold and snow shook from his boots with every step he took. She could tell he wasn't from around here, for she was well acquainted with the locals. "I've come from Ostwick with a package for a Lady Ahnnie," he informed the confused innkeeper.

Flissa nodded. "You can set it down on the counter; I'll bring it up to her."

As he was doing so, the innkeeper motioned for him to sit down. "Make yourself comfortable," she insisted, "and I'll get you a hot drink."

"Thank you," the messenger breathed, and she went to fix him some hot cider, which he gratefully accepted, before taking the wrapped package and heading upstairs to her room. It was the last one on the left and when Flissa opened the door, she could see that Ahnnie was sound asleep, tucked in the same position as she had been the previous night. With careful steps the innkeeper crossed the room and gently shook the girl on the shoulder.

"Rise and shine," Flissa sing-songed. "Does your head hurt? I have just the thing for a hangover. It's Osbert's secret recipe."

"Mmm..." Ahnnie's eyes fluttered open at the disturbance of her slumber and stared out at Flissa as if seeing her for the first time. "Flis...sa?" she drawled confusedly, her brows furrowed.

"You were too drunk to get home last night," the innkeeper explained.

Ahnnie rose herself into a sitting position and blinked drowsily at the room about her. She would find that it was largely nondescript, a modestly sized room of wooden walls and floors, with a trunk, desk, and chair as the only furniture. The only decoration was a single framed painting on the wall opposite the bed. It was a still life of a vase of spring flowers; color in a colorless room. A parting gift from a friend in Denerim, Flissa recalled.

"Oh my god," the girl exclaimed when it all dawned upon her. "I'm _so_ sorry-"

"'Twas no problem," Flissa reassured her.

"No, I have to pay you for using this room-"

 _I shouldn't let her know it's mine, then,_ the innkeeper thought. _A good thing I put the cot away, and that Netta stayed at a friend's house last night._ For she and Flissa shared this room, and Flissa didn't trust the little girl to keep from boasting about the matter. "Nonsense," she said at last. "I was more than happy to oblige. I didn't think it a good idea for both you and Master Blackwall to stumble through the night; those stone stairs can get real icy this time of year." Then, remembering the package, she handed it over to the girl. "A messenger came bearing this for you. Take a gander at it now if you like, but do refresh yourself and come downstairs for some breakfast when you're ready."

* * *

 

Ahnnie groaned and fell back on the pillow. _Nooooo,_ she thought in dismay, _what have I done?_ Creeping shame and humiliation swept over her at once. _I_ have _to repay her when...well, when I can. Now that I think about it, I'm still as broke as the day I first came here._ Indeed, there was not a penny to her name. _Does being part of the Inquisition include an income? I'll have to ask Cassandra about that._

But for now, there was this strange package sitting in her lap to deal with. Ahnnie sat up and regarded it curiously, wondering what could be beneath the brown paper wrapping. She pulled an end of the twine that tied it together and the knot gave way. Cautiously, she undid the paper wrapping, and found a dark leatherbound book sitting neatly in its confines; on top of the book, blocking most of the cover, was a folded piece of parchment paper.

Ahnnie picked it up and unfolded it. It was a letter written in cheap ink, but the handwriting was flowery and practiced.

_Dear Ahnnie,_

_You are probably reading this after you have returned from the Hinterlands. I have heard many good things from there in the past few days, with more to come, I'm sure. I trust you've had an agreeable time and hope your return trip was safe._

_With this letter you will find a copy of the book I lent you while I was in Haven. I was just in Kirkwall three days ago, perusing a bookstore, when I saw it and thought of you._

_When next we meet, you must tell me what you think of it. Don't forget to have it signed by the author!_

_Best Wishes,_

_Eliana_

With a wide grin, Ahnnie put the letter aside and found the muscular man on the cover of _Hard in Hightown_ staring back at her. She brushed it slowly with her fingers, as if unable to believe it was real. But it was.

 _I almost forgot about Evelyn,_ the girl thought. _She probably had to keep her family from knowing she was writing to me,_ for the paper and ink were of cheap quality and the letter was signed with her cover name. _Still, t_ _his was so kind of her! I must write her back._

Throwing the covers off her feet, Ahnnie made the bed and quickly refreshed herself from a water basin on the desk. She next grabbed hold of the package - wrapping, twine, book, and letter all - before rushing down the stairs. Her spirits were soaring and she couldn't stop grinning (though thankfully, she was not drunk). She felt like a child on Christmas day.

* * *

 

The messenger said the sender was happy to receive a reply and Ahnnie set off at once for her cabin to write it. She wanted to be sure it was okay to reply before actually doing so; maybe this was just a one time thing and Evelyn didn't want to arouse the Trevelyan's suspicions with more letters. But if it was all right, then the Ostwick mage was probably confident in her ability to receive the correspondence privately.

 _My first ever penpal, right here in Thedas,_ Ahnnie thought in awe.

A delicious bowl of Osbert's venison stew sat warm in her stomach as she made her way across town, the book and letter re-wrapped in its brown paper and tucked under her armpit. As she switched between excitement for the letter and guilt for the freeloading, she added the savoury breakfast on her list of debts to the Singing Maiden. Oh, and the price of a meal and drink to Varric as well. The fact that she could still count what she owed satisfied her immensely. She so hated to be in other's debts, though they were nothing but nice to her.

The moment she stepped foot inside her abode, she wet the ink and unrolled some paper and let the words flow from there. She thanked Evelyn - er, this time Eliana - for the book and would be sure to read it and treasure it as one of her most prized possessions. She looked forward to the day they could meet to discuss it, and if Eliana knew of other good titles, perhaps she could suggest them to her? Also, did she ever read _Swords and Shields_? Was it really as bad as the author himself believed?

 _Oh well, I'll get myself a copy and read it anyway,_ Ahnnie wrote. She ended the letter with good wishes and folded it in three parts, like the other letter had been, before rushing out of her cabin to catch the messenger. He would be staying the night in Haven but she felt as though he might disappear if she didn't go fast enough. When she handed the letter to him, she was breathless from running. He found her determination amusing and promised her it would reach the intended recipient within a fortnight. On the topic of payment, he showed his good character by refusing it; the one who employed him already promised to pay for any such expenses.

With that taken care of, Ahnnie could rest easy as she strode towards the tavern door, and maybe partake in some excitement as she awaited a response from Ostwick. Now she knew why penpals were so appealing. But before she could exit, she stopped, remembering Lady.

 _A little visit wouldn't hurt._ So she turned around and made for the side door instead.

When she approached the dog's stall, she saw Lady dozing contentedly on a soft bed of straw. Ahnnie paused at the stall door, not wanting to disturb the pregnant dog's sleep. Netta wasn't around to squeal over Lady, she noticed, but that was okay - Lady needed rest, carrying such precious cargo as she was. Ahnnie traced the curves of her bloated side as it heaved up and down in time to her breathing. Swollen breasts lined the bottom of her stomach, smooth and pink like fleshy little fruits.

 _By god, she's almost ready,_ Ahnnie thought in shock. It was only now that she noticed it, but the bulge of the dog's belly was close to the farther end of her body; as the pregnancy advanced, the pups moved closer to the pelvis. S _he might even whelp tonight!_

But there was neither the time nor reason to continue gawking at Lady, for Ahnnie was due to report to Corporal Hargrave any minute now. Lessons resumed today, after all. With a last loving look at Lady, Ahnnie left the Singing Maiden and went to fetch her glaive-guisarme from her cabin in preparation for the lessons.

* * *

 

Polearm lessons finished, Cassandra was again unavailable for sword practice and there was no need to continue riding lessons, so Ahnnie went directly to Josephine's office again. Luckily, there were no icy nobles to waylay her in the Chantry. But when she entered the ambassador's office, she received a bit of unpleasantness anyway in the form of a lecture.

"You should not have let yourself get so intoxicated last night," Josephine scolded her after she sat down. "I heard of what happened, and of what you said - it is not dangerous, but borders upon it. And the language you used! What should happen if you went further? What if the wrong person were to hear it? As the Herald of Andraste, you have an image to uphold."

Ahnnie blushed. "I'm sorry, Josephine," she apologized. "I didn't mean to act out. However, I do think the way the elves are viewed is preposterous, and I still intend to ask Solas to come along with me to Val Royeaux. But of course, when I go drinking from now on, I'll watch myself more closely," she added.

Josephine nodded. "I understand; I, too, think the current views on elves are deplorable. Neither do I want to stop you from enjoying a drink. However, many people think in certain ways of the elves, and it is dangerous to come across as overly aggressive to them."

Ahnnie understood that. Bigotry was not easily overcome; a rule that held true in both Earth and Thedas. But change was always possible, and always happened. It was just a matter of when. Still, she let the matter die there and sat back in anticipation of the upcoming diplomacy lesson. It was more of the same, but with the impending journey to the heart of Orlais looming ahead of them, it was more vigorous. Josephine even gave her a notebook to take notes with.

"Study it well, but do not let yourself be caught consulting it," she warned Ahnnie. "It would only tell the Orlesians that you are forgetful and unlearned."

 _That's a reassuring thought to think of,_ Ahnnie remarked sarcastically when the lesson ended. Josephine meant well, of course, and Ahnnie would not have minded rereading her notes carefully that night; but she'd just been notified during the lesson that the Big Four (her new nickname for Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana) decided on a date for the trip. And that date was only a few days away.

 _Well, she never said anything about_ not _bringing it along,_ Ahnnie pointed out as she strolled out of the Chantry. It made her feel rather proud to have noticed a loophole in Josephine's words, just as the ambassdor herself had taught. _I'm getting the hang of this already._ Bold words, but giving oneself a little ego boost every once in a while wasn't such a sin.

Ah, and now that her thoughts were on Val Royeaux, she curiously turned her direction towards one of Haven's lower tiers. Her heart beat nervously in her chest at the thought of what Solas would say; if he declined to come along, was it because she displeased him? Had she really destroyed their friendship because of some fear and careless words?

_Nonsense, he's not like that...it's all just in my head._

When she finally found Solas, it was not in the old place where they used to talk; rather, it was outside Haven walls, a little ways away from the construction site. A camp was also visible nearby, the makeshift abodes of new Inquisition recruits.

"I guess they trust you enough to let you out beyond the gates now," Ahnnie joked to catch his attention. Then she immediately regretted it. _That sounded like an insult_ _._

But Solas smiled at her good-naturedly. "And I'm surprised they're trusting enough to let _you_ out, considering what happened in the tavern."

She jolted. _He knows!?_ As she scrambled to make a comprehensible reply, the hedge mage laughed.

"It is all right, da'len. It happens. Such is the double-sided nature of alcohol."

At this, she settled down. "Well, if you know so much about it, _hahren_ ," she began, "did you also know I wanted to ask if you could come with us to Val Royeaux?"

Solas arched an eyebrow at her use of the Elvish word. "Yes, I had heard. It was in connection to a more colorful statement that you made."

Her face reddened all over again, and not just from the cold.

"Since you so strongly insisted, I will come," Solas then said. "It has been some time since I've been to that city; both in the Fade, and in waking life."

"Oh? You've actually been before?"

He nodded. "I even entertained in the houses of several nobles." When her eyes widened, he explained, "For some Orlesians, it is a secret thrill to host a hedge mage in their homes. Though of course, they do not keep me for long."

Ahnnie opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. "Those damn Orlesians! They're so confusing."

"Even more surprises await you there, as you will no doubt discover." He gave her a gentle smile. "But enough on that. I thank you for your words on the elves, even if they were delivered a bit roughly. It gladdens me to hear that someone thinks as you do."

She never expected to hear it put that way. But now that she did, it made sense; Solas hated the plight of the elves, for he was an elf himself. It was so easy to forget that distinction because of how irrelevant his race was to him as a person. Just as it made no sense to judge based on skin color, it never crossed Ahnnie's mind to treat anyone based on the shape of their ears or their stature. But it was practically second nature to a majority of humans across Thedas. Meeting with such receptions everywhere one went must surely have been demoralizing.

"You're welcome," she replied, touched by his words. "I...I'm glad they made someone happy."

And so it was settled. Solas didn't hate her, and he was coming along to Val Royeaux.

* * *

 

Preparation, preparation, preparation - that was all their time seemed to be spent with: preparation.

This was no jaunt to the Hinterlands, after all. This was an actual diplomatic visit, to what was considered the center of civilization in Thedas. This held the same weight as an official visit to the Vatican. Mess it up, and it would ruin the Inquisition's chances for a long time to come.

A pity the time they had left was so short!

The trip was already a day away, and Ahnnie felt so unprepared every time she checked her baggage. Yes, she packed days ahead of time; she just had to. But something would be imperfect there, lacking here, and she would take it all out to do it over again. Even more stressful than the packing was Lady Josephine's many tips on diplomacy and the Grand Game, stored in that dreadful little notebook.

 _I never want to look at it again!_ Ahnnie cried as she tossed herself stomach-down onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow.

But then a moment later she got up to pack it away, satisfied that it was neatly tucked in between some clothes and therefore, out of her sight. Abhorrent though it was, she would need it where she was going.

After staring awhile to admire her handiwork, Ahnnie shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. _I need to get out of here,_ she thought. _I need to look at something else other than that damn bag._ Netta and the Singing Maiden instantly beckoned for her attention, and in response to that, Lady. _Oh, yeah! Did she give birth yet? I haven't heard..._

When she came to the tavern, the answer was no; but it would be soon, for the moment Netta showed her to Lady's stall, it was evident that the dog was already in the beginning stages of labor. The straw had been scratched and pawed up into a snug little nest, Lady herself was panting at twice the normal rate, and occasionally she would get up again to pace about the nest and adjust it wherever she thought it was lacking.

"Tonight, for sure," Ahnnie murmured, with conviction this time.

* * *

 

The lantern swung with the movement of the wind, creaking lightly at the hinges of the handle. Pale orange light danced upon the snow wherever the lantern swayed, its light too feeble for Ahnnie to illuminate her path in this building snowstorm, but that was not her purpose.

She snuck around in the darkness of Haven, heading right for the tavern, but not going straight to its doors. No, it was closed this time of night. She went around the tavern instead, heading for the side where she knew the stables were. Why she allowed herself to go at this hour, stealing about like a thief in the night, she couldn't comprehend. She only remembered that she couldn't sleep, and it was late when she was startled awake. But she had no desire to be elsewhere, for she had been struck with the sudden urge to witness Lady's birthing.

Tip-toeing quietly amongst the stalls, where the horses slept with soft nickers and breaths, Ahnnie's lantern was now put to better use. Its light seemed not so feeble anymore, but wasn't so bright that anyone looking in from the tavern could see her. Or so she hoped.

Even if she didn't know which stall it was, the smell and the sounds would have been enough to guide her. Though unpleasant, the smell was nostalgic to her: metallic and watery, almost like blood but not quite. She was taught from memory to register it differently because of the little bundles of joy whose arrival it heralded. And the sound, of course, was Lady's hammer-like panting.

Ahnnie approached the stall door and opened it quietly. She placed the lantern at her feet and slowly knelt down, watching Lady lying in the straw; the dog returned her gaze, tongue sticking out of her mouth and jerking merrily with each rapid breath. The human girl crept closer and stopped; closer, then stopped; and repeated this process until she was comfortably situated in a corner of the stall. Lady in the meantime had no objections to her presence. But when she attempted to stroke the dog's back, Lady growled before the hand could even touch the scraggly brown fur.

 _You can be here, but you're not to come any closer,_ was the message. Ahnnie sat back, a little startled but understanding nonetheless.

"At least you trust me this much," she said with a smile to the dog. Lady gave her a last round-eyed look before laying her head back down on the straw.

And then it came; without a noise, so that Ahnnie might have missed it if she weren't looking, a straw-colored fluid rushed from Lady's backside and into the straw bedding. Ahnnie straightened up in her seat so that she might get a clearer look. Shortly after the passing of the liquid, a dark, wet, circular mass began to push through the outer lips of the vulva. Lady's head rose again as she began to strain this dark mass out of her. Ahnnie fought the temptation to help, reminding herself that this wasn't Cixi, who trusted her more wholly than Lady did.

With a thick _squelch_ , the little mass was expelled, wet and slimy and encased in a transparent sack of liquid with the umbilical cord sticking through. Lady's instincts kicked in, making her reach over to catch the sack in her teeth and chew it open to free the little puppy inside. Then she chewed on the umbilical cord, shortening it to a manageable length. A few seconds later, there was another squelch as a dark red blob passed through the vulva; the placenta, which Lady gulped up as soon as she could.

Ahnnie smiled as she remembered her little brother's face of disgust when he saw Cixi doing the same thing. She could almost hear his voice, yelling out that comical ' _Eeeew!_ ' before he ran downstairs to gag into the kitchen sink.

The first pup often seemed like the most doted upon, with the mother completely absorbing her attention with it, licking it dry and sniffing it, even rubbing her furry cheek against it. Meanwhile the squirming pup would utter a mewling cry and crawl like a blind little rat towards a teat, hungry and eager for milk. Then as its littermates came, the routine would become familiar and attention diverted equally amongst the pups. Ahnnie longed to hold the little velvety body, to look into the wrinkled, squinting face - so _cute! -_ but refrained from doing so out of respect for Lady.

After the first pup was dried and suckling, Lady lay back down on the straw again. There would not be another pup for twenty minutes or even four hours. The effort had, no doubt, taken up much of her strength; she would need to rest up for the next one.

Ahnnie yawned and she, too, settled her head back into the wooden corner of the stall.

* * *

 

A sharp intake of excited breath. " _Puppies!_ " came the childish squeal a moment later.

Ahnnie cracked open an eye and found dim sunlight filtering through the gloom of the stables. Beside her was a lantern, long since extinguished. With a groan, she stirred herself into a straighter position, and found an eager little face peering down from above her.

"Netta, hi," she greeted the little girl as she rubbed her eyes.

Netta giggled. " _You_ don't look like a puppy, though. What are you doing here?"

"You spent the night here, your ladyship?" Nala asked incredulously, and Ahnnie's eyes quickly picked up her skinny form standing beside Netta.

Ahnnie looked about the stall. Lady was lying on her side, dozing; on her belly, three fat little pups were suckling from her teats. "Yeah, I guess I did," she affirmed at last. "Hey, Nala, you were right; it's three puppies!"

Once she had removed the lantern and her person from the stall did the girls start talking animatedly about the new arrivals. They huddled around the stall door, chatting in quiet voices to both set an example for Netta and to give Lady some peace and quiet.

"Are they boys? Are they girls?" Netta asked. "Oh, if there's a boy, I want to name it Charley!"

"Did you check their sex?" Nala then asked Ahnnie.

The drowsy human girl shook her head. "No, actually, Lady wouldn't let me get too close. Plus I was asleep while the last two came out."

"Maiden, if one is a girl!" Netta piped up from in between them.

"'Tis all right," Nala assured. "We will find out in a couple of weeks, when they can walk around. Hopefully, Lady will trust us with them by then."

Ahnnie felt a tiny pang of disappointment. _I won't get to see them at that stage...I'll be in Val Royeaux, and I'm not yet sure for how long._ Oh well. It wasn't as if she wasn't going to ever see them again. Then, remembering something, Ahnnie turned to Nala with purpose in her eyes. "Nala, while I'm away in Val Royeaux, you must promise me something."

The elven girl blinked. "Yes, my lady?"

"If, for some reason, there isn't enough food for Lady, I want you to take from the rations in my cabin to feed her. And if the pups are weaning by then, do the same thing. There should be enough to go around; I haven't had the chance to use them up yet."

Ahnnie held Nala's wrist in a firm grip at this point, startling the elf. So much so that her thin mouth was in an O. "My lady..."

"Nala." Ahnnie's tone grew fierce. "This isn't a question, it's an _order_."

There was a period of silence between them, which the startled elf broke a moment later. "I wasn't arguing with you, my lady. I was just surprised that they meant so much to you."

 _Oh._ Now Ahnnie felt stupid. "Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to sound harsh. But yes, in a way, they do." She looked back at the three wiggling forms in the straw and saw in her minds eye a line of nine of them; a puppy almost killed beneath his mother's weight, then saved in the nick of time by quick thinking; a puppy grown into a big dog and sent away to live in Tennessee.

She knew then that her heart had already adopted these three as its own. Turning back to Nala, she gave the elven girl a gentler smile. "Just promise me that, and I can go to Val Royeaux in peace."

"Yes, my lady, I promise you."

Relieved, Ahnnie gave the puppies one last glance before she left the stables. _See you guys when I get back!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard about the Solas entertaining nobles thing in-game, but it was so long ago...if anyone has more info regarding this (or lack of it, if it's my memory makin' things up), don't hesitate to let me know.


	4. City of Masks

The port city of Jader gleamed like a brilliant pearl in the sun. The day was balmy and blessed with clear skies, carrying the salt smell of the harbor on the wind. Gulls cried overhead and people milled about, calling out to one another in their lyrical voices. It was as lively and bouyant as the waves dancing upon the Waking Sea.

Eastern jewel of the Empire, it was called. And rightly so - towering in the distance were impeccable specimens of some of the most striking architecture Ahnnie had ever seen. They were whirling and fanciful, constructed to reflect the sea so close to where they were built. But they were also distant, separated from her by the more common streets and alleyways. She could only admire them as one reveres an elevated monarch seated on a high throne.

After arriving at the gates of Jader, their group was quickly harried through the winding streets and down to the docks, leaving little time to stop and admire the finer points of the city. At first, she was able to catch a glimpse of a gilded carriage or a masked figure here and there, but the closer they came to the harbor (the rougher side, at that), the less she saw of those strange masked Orlesians she had heard so much about. The common populace went unmasked and seemed indistinguishable to her from the Fereldens, but for their rosier and more sunkist complexions.

Regardless, Ahnnie enjoyed being in the city very much. It was a welcome change from the cold mountain roads, which had taken them almost twelve days to pass because of rough weather - two days behind schedule! - and the merry call of the seagulls, coupled with the tolling of ship's bells and foreign voices, filled her with a sense of adventure.

"It is done," Cassandra called to their little group, consisting of Ahnnie, Blackwall, Solas, and Josephine. Varric could not come for his own personal reasons. Ahnnie was a little disappointed, but understanding. "We are to come aboard."

The followed obediently up to the side of a sturdy wooden vessel, one of the many moored at the docks complete with sails and all that jazz, where a gangplank was laid for them. One by one they walked up the gangplank, Ahnnie coming in next to last before Cassandra, and once they were all aboard, the gangplank was stowed away and the ship lurched to action a few minutes later.

Ahnnie headed over to the rails on the port side while Cassandra and Josephine spoke with the captain. She watched the city of Jader as it slowly fell away, bobbing up and down in time to the ship's movement, as if it too were set adrift in the waters.

The soldiers Cullen sent with them would be traveling on a different ship and were set to meet up with them at the capital's docks. She rested her elbows on the wooden railing and allowed herself to be content with that fact, looking forward to when they could reunite in Val Royeaux.

* * *

 

This trip, just like the previous one, was filled with new experiences.

First, she had left Haven in the company of some twenty people. It was a new sensation, traveling with so many people at once. Though the soldiers were just a small regiment, it felt like going on a trip with half the population of Haven. So it must seem after many days of sharing campfires with one another, as well as private space and animals and roads.

And it was amusing to watch Lady Josephine travel, in particular. The Inquisition ambassador had draped herself with thick cloaks and furs as they traversed through the mountains, drawing them closer at every small breeze, and was rather insistent that she not have to bed down for the night so close to their mounts. She disliked their smell and found it unsanitary to do so. The result was that she was often the last one ready for the next day's march, not counting the minute examinations of her hands and other limbs upon waking for signs of the frostbite that she so dreaded.

Then Ahnnie was aboard a sea vessel, sailing for longer than a day, and temporarily prey to seasickness. The waters were mostly smooth, giving her little cause in actuality to be uncomfortable. The ship wasn't a stinking hellhole of claustrophobia, either. But when it came to the bathroom arrangements, Ahnnie should have known better than to expect anything like the crisp and clean cruise liner bathrooms. Instead, there was only one latrine situated in the head of the ship, shared by all. The pitching of the waves seemed to increase the ever present swirling in her stomach as a result, and she was confined to her cabin for a better part of the first day.

By the half of the second day, the sailors finally sighted Val Royeaux. Ahnnie had mostly recovered by then and stood with the others on deck to watch as they neared the fabled capital city. Two great statues of marble, each depicting a woman in a flowing dress reaching out a hand in the direction of the city, graced the entryway into the harbor. The docks, teeming with colorful merchant ships and small boats very much like canopied gondolas, beckoned to them with a long strip of white stone leading up to equally white walls.

It was there they disembarked and rejoined their soldiers. Coming together in a nice formation, they marched on foot toward the gates leading into the Summer Bazaar.

* * *

 

Ahnnie's head went this way and that as she took in the city around her, gilded baroque structures of white stone, stately and majestic, sporting primary colors such as rich blues, deep reds, and shimmering gold-yellows. The people were like complements to their background, their clothes a riot of color and their masks - a half mask there, a full mask here, almost everyone's faces covered in masks! It was like being at a Venetian festival.

Albeit, a festival with no sense of festivity in the air.

Though the Orlesians (or, as the citizens of Val Royeaux liked to call themselves, the Royans) around them milled about at leisurely paces, something seemed tense in their gait. It was not immediately noticeable until Ahnnie saw a masked young woman look at their party, pause, and continue on her way with stinted, uncertain steps. Several others followed her example, casting suspicious and shadowed glances at their advance.

"The city still mourns," Cassandra said from ahead of her, "and apparently recognizes us."

 _A shame,_ Ahnnie thought. _Val Royeaux looks like a nice place to be._ In fact, it had appeared in her imagination as much more vibrant than Jader.

To counter the mood, Blackwall made some observations of his own. "Val Royeaux, huh? I remember the first time I visited it, some thirty years ago. The market was not half as large, without the garish statues. And far fewer stands selling those ridiculous frilly little cakes." He looked pointedly at such a stand, displaying little pastries decorated in frilly icing.

"A lot changes in thirty years," Ahnnie remarked, looking in response at that same stand. The pastries looked delicious. "It must be nice to come back and see how it all went."

"Indeed. I hardly know I'm standing in the same city."

"The Val Royeaux market was once nothing but tents of oiled leather and mud," Solas put in from behind them, and they turned their attention to the elf. "Filled with ragged humans selling strings of beads made of bone."

Blackwall raised an eyebrow. "You saw this in the Fade?" The Warden was aware of Solas' Fade walking abilities by now. If it put him off, he didn't show it.

"Yes. I left that memory quickly. The smell..."

"Must have been ages ago."

"Oh, yes. It's much better now." Solas smiled. "I enjoy the frilly cakes."

Just as they came to the soaring archway preceding the walkway that led into the Bazaar, a young woman in the familiar green hooded mantle of the Inquisition forces intercepted them. "My lady Herald," she greeted Ahnnie, and bent down to kneel on one knee.

Where Ahnnie was confused to see another of the Inquisition in the city but not in their party, Cassandra was not. "You're one of Leliana's people," the Seeker recognized. "What have you found?"

"The Chantry Mothers await you," she informed them, "but so do a great many templars."

Cassandra sounded surprised. "There are templars here?" she asked.

The scout's face reflected the discomfort of the news she was bound to deliver. "People seem to think the templars will protect them from...from the Inquisition," she gave out at last.

At this, Ahnnie exchanged glances with Blackwall and Solas. Her eyes next went to Josephine, whose face seemed pensive.

"They're gathering on the other side of the market," the scout continued. "I think that's where the templars intend to meet you." She then rose, having finished her report.

Ahnnie immediately looked up to the Seeker for guidance; so natural was this instinct that she didn't even remember turning her head. Cassandra did not return the gaze, and her face appeared even more hardened than it usually was. "Only one thing to do, then," she declared, and ordered them to continue on into the Bazaar.

* * *

 

"They wish to protect the people," Cassandra murmured under her breath. "From _us!_ " She shook her head, her consternation all too clear in the tone of her voice.

Ahnnie looked up at the taller woman, wishing she could say something to make the situation seem better. "Maybe they misunderstood when they heard we were bringing soldiers."

"Enough to act as an envoy guard, not to invade their city," Cassandra reminded her.

Silence fell between them and Ahnnie looked elsewhere to distract herself. The fated market square loomed closer with every step; she felt doomed.

"You think the Order's returned to the fold to deal with us?" Blackwall then asked. At the beginning of the Mage-Templar war, the Seekers issued that neither they nor the templars would recognize Chantry authority, thereby nullifying their part of the Nevarran Accord.

Cassandra shook her head. "I _know_ Lord Seeker Lucius. I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defense, not after all that's occurred."

They said no more on the subject as they finally emerged into the Bazaar. The Bazaar itself was arranged in a ring-like fashion around a squat blue tower, red ribbon-like stretches of cloth emanating from the tower roof to the eaves of the higher buildings around it so that they cast a circle of long rectangular shadows on the marketplace below. Ahnnie could not find the time to marvel at its beauty, for the marketplace was eerily quiet; unlike the earlier streets, no one was strolling here, and only a few masked people stood clustered in their own little circles.

"The Inquisition is here, along with the 'Herald of Andraste'," one of them whispered as the party went by. The Orlesian accent was heavy in his voice; Ahnnie did not miss the fact that he used Common to speak in lieu of his native tongue.

"They say they found the otherworlder covered in the Divine's blood," one of his fellows joined in.

Another spat with indignance onto the paved ground below. "Let her pass; the Inquisition is the templars' problem. And they'll fix it."

Like a bad omen, a gallows stood not too far to the left of those Orlesians, which the Inquisition had to pass by as they walked. It was more likely a long-time fixture of the Bazaar, serving its purpose for public hangings whenever they occurred, but Ahnnie felt sick looking at the empty noose swaying in the breeze. She tried not to pay it too much attention as she followed the others towards the murmuring of a gathering crowd.

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!"

The thin, rasping voice of a middle-aged Chantry Mother carried down from a wooden platform set up against the eastern end of the Bazaar, ringing with conviction like a preacher to a congregation. The audience, masked and unmasked Orlesians alike, listened to her every word with reverently bowed heads. She was flanked on both sides by two Chantry sisters and guarded about the platform with templars.

"Together we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart, silenced by treachery." She read these words like a poet, her voice winding down to a soft note as she spoke the of the Divine. Her eyes and hand notably gestured at the Inquisition party as they approached, zeroing in on Ahnnie in particular and giving the effect that she was speaking directly to the girl. "You wonder what will become of her murderer...well, wonder no more. Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell! We say this is a false prophet - no servant of anything beyond her own selfish greed!""

Just like that, the Chantry Mother's voice turned sharp and accusatory. The once silent crowd suddenly rippled with murmurs as they turned to stare at the blasphemous Inquisition; ripples that grew, and grew, until it was a wave of dissent.

Ahnnie felt a mixture of anger, disbelief, and discomfort as the audience turned on them. Had there been no soldiers, her group would surely have been overtaken by the angry crowd by now. _This is what Leliana was talking about_ , she thought. _This is what she warned me of._ In the midst of it the speaking Chantry Mother's eyes bore down on her, so full of hatred for someone she hadn't set eyes on until now. Such a stark comparison to the warm and kindly Mother Giselle.

Ahnnie felt a tug on her sleeve. "Say something," Josephine's voice whispered to her through the chaos.

 _But what?_ She wished Josephine could give her the words, but knew this was something she had to do herself. Finding a break in the crowd's protestations, she steeled herself against their barbed words and cried, "It doesn't matter who the Herald of Andraste is!" A little pause, in which she noted the desperation in her voice, and then adjusted it. "And bickering about who killed the Divine isn't going to do anything. I sure didn't, but I'm not here for a trial. I'm here to talk."

"It's true," Cassandra jumped in, seizing the opportunity. "The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late!"

Clinking metal sounded beyond the crowd to the platform's left. It fell and rose in unison in an almost military pattern. Upon hearing it, the Chantry Mother's face turned smug. "It is already too late," she corrected them, pointing in that direction.

They turned and saw a group of heavily armored men stepping up to the platform, breastplates emblazoned with the symbol of the Seekers. At their head was a pale man with dark, slicked back hair, his eyes stony and grim.

The Chantry Mother stepped aside as the men took up space on the platform. "The templars have returned to the Chantry!" she cried in exultation. "They will face the 'Inquisition', and the people will be safe once more!"

She seemed pleased with herself as she watched the Seekers gather about her. And then the nearest one threw a swinging punch at the base between her skull and neck, knocking her out cold.

 _What the fuck!?_ Ahnnie, along with the audience, gave out gasps of horror; the Chantry sisters screamed. Meanwhile, the templars continued to stand guard, seemingly oblivious to the events behind and in front of them.

Ahnnie didn't notice that she hadn't blinked until her eyes stung. _Did that guy really just...!?_ Coming back to her senses, she pushed through the Inquisition soldiers and Orlesians, rushing up to the platform to check on the fallen Mother. She went down on her knees so that the platform floor was level with her face, and peered anxiously into the slack visage of the Mother. "Are you all right? Hello? Can you hear me? Mother Hevara?" For she had heard the panicked sisters scream out that name. But no amount of calling or shaking seemed to wake the unconscious Mother up.

Feeling a surge of anger, Ahnnie glared up at the burly Seekers. "How could you!? That was completely unnecessary! She couldn't have done anything to you!"

"And it would have been acceptable if she could?" the dark haired Seeker countered before walking down the platform. He held Ahnnie's eyes in a passing glance, and she saw nothing but contempt emanate from his stony orbs. Behind him, a dark skinned templar gazed uncomfortably at Mother Hevara's prone figure before following the Seeker.

Cassandra started up in his direction. "Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with-"

"You will not address me," he interrupted coldly as he came off the last step.

Cassandra did not immediately respond, pausing for a moment to watch him lead the other Seekers and templars away. "Lord Seeker?" she then inquired.

Lucius paused in his tracks, slowly turning to face them. "Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet - you should be ashamed."

It didn't occur to Ahnnie that this Seeker was Cassandra's superior until now. Shooed away by the sisters from Mother Hevara after they recovered from their shock, she had no choice but to return to the group and watch this unpleasant exchange.

"You should all be ashamed!" Lucius snarled. "The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! _You_ are the ones who have failed. You, who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear!" An accusatory finger was levied against them all. "If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is _mine_."

"Then why are you here?" Ahnnie asked. Her voice still shook from her previous anger. "If it's not to help the Chantry, then what did you come for?"

Lucius' eyes locked with hers again. His lips curved into a sadistic, contemptuous smile. "I came to see what frightens old women so, and to laugh," was his chilling answer.

The dark skinned templar suddenly intercepted him. "But Lord Seeker," the templar began, "what if she really was sent by the Maker? What if-"

"You are called to a higher purpose," Lucius snapped. "Do not question!" To the Inquisition, he vowed, " _I_ will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void. _We_ deserve recognition. Independence! _You_ have shown me nothing," he reproached Ahnnie, "and the Inquisition...less than nothing." Turning to his men, he barked, "Templars! Val Royeaux is no longer worthy of our protection. We march!"

In a cold, orderly fashion, the men followed the Lord Seeker out of the Bazaar. The bewildered audience quickly made way for them, drawing back as far as they could as if they feared to receive Mother Hevara's rough treatment if they stood too close. The eastern side of the Bazaar became a buzz of murmurs and whispers as soon as the men were gone. In their nervous excitement, the people forgot about the Inquisition, although they still kept their distance.

"A charming reception," Solas remarked dryly.

"Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone _mad_?" Cassandra asked no one in particular.

Ahnnie frowned. "Did you know him well, Cassandra? Was he usually like this?"

"He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert's death," Cassandra explained. "He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding...so no, he was not always like this. This is very bizarre."

Blackwall sighed and crossed his arms. "I guess that means the Inquisition won't be receiving any help from the templars, then."

"Fortunately, they are not our only hope," Josephine put in. "For every group that speaks against us, there will always be those willing to listen."

That was true. The people of Haven and the Hinterlands held them in positive regard; who knew if there might be more?

"I wouldn't write the templars off so quickly," Cassandra forewarned. "There must be those in the Order who see what he's become."

Ahnnie perked up as she remembered one such person. "That templar, earlier. He had his doubts."

"Exactly," Cassandra nodded. "He is probably not the only one, either."

 _But he was also quickly suppressed,_ Ahnnie reminded herself, and felt deflated again. _I wonder if that doubt is enough to persuade him?_ With a plaintive sigh, she looked back at the platform where Mother Hevara was lying. The Mother had regained consciousness and was sitting up, nursing an ache in the side she fell on. When Ahnnie told Cassandra the Mother had recovered, she signaled the group to return to the platform; the crowd around them had more or less dispersed by then, facilitating their passage.

Mother Hevara noticed their approached and narrowed her eyes at them. "This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra," she ground out.

"We came here seeking only to speak with the Mothers," Cassandra replied evenly. "This is not our doing, but yours."

"And you had no part in forcing our hand?" The Mother chuckled dryly. "Do not delude yourself! Now we have been shown up by our own templars, in front of everyone. And my fellow clerics have scattered with the wind, along with their convictions..." She suddenly winced as pain lanced her through the side and clutched it harder.

Ahnnie pursed her lips, wondering if it was okay to ask after her. But since she had taken quite a few liberties in speaking today, she decided to do it anyway. "Are you all right, Mother Hevara?" the girl asked timidly.

The Mother squinted uncertainly at her. "I am fine," she eventually spat out. "Just tell me one thing."

"Yes?"

"Do you _truly_ believe you are the Maker's chosen?"

Ahnnie blinked, taken aback by the question. "N-no," she stammered. "I don't think that at all...Why do you ask?"

Mother Hevara grimaced and shook her head. "That is...more comforting than you might imagine. I suppose it is out of our hands now...We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come. _Oh!_ " At her sharp gasp, the Chantry sisters hovered closer to her and began, delicately, to pull her to her feet. "Not so quickly," she pleaded as they led her off the platform.

"Wait," Ahnnie called after them, but Cassandra held her back with a restraining hand.

"Let them go," said the Seeker. "There is no more we can ask of them now."

"Okay," the girl conceded with a sigh. Turning back to the group, she asked, "So what do we do now?"

"We are obviously not going to leave things unfinished with the Chantry," Josephine began. "Our next step should be to give them some time before approaching them again. Let today's events sink in; Lord Seeker Lucius' actions will be the talk of the city, and in their shock, the Chantry will overlook their condemnation of us. It is but a limited moment, however, so we must move quickly to sway the clerics still denouncing you before it wears off."

"Exactly _how_ soon should we do this?" Ahnnie asked. She was hoping some of this swaying could take place even after she returned to Haven; she had no desire to meet with angry Chantry Mothers face-to-face again.

"Preferably before the next Divine Election begins." Josephine shrugged. "It will be a continuous process, but I suggest we start at the prescribed time for it to have the right effect."

"For now, _I_ suggest we find a place to spend the night," Solas interjected. "It wouldn't do to be stranded in this city."

Josephine smiled. "Of course. Let me handle the arrangements."

The small Inquisition regiment then took their leave of the Bazaar as Josephine led the way to where she believed good lodgings could be found. As they passed beneath the graceful arches leading in and out of the circular marketplace, Ahnnie paused when her back prickled with the sensation of being watched. She slowly turned to see what it was, but saw nothing of import except for some masked Orlesians. Shaking her head, she resumed her pace and welcomed the chance to put the Bazaar behind her.

* * *

 

Lodgings for the night consisted of plain rooms in a quaint little inn. _L'auberge de Licorne,_ it was called - _The Unicorn Inn._ Despite the pretty name, the inn was largely nondescript and served a middling clientele. The Inquisition couldn't afford to waste its current resources on anything grander, and even if it could, the larger hotels would have refused to lodge them anyway. _L'auberge de Licorne,_ seeing a business opportunity in the Herald's fairly sized party, put economics before religious views and eagerly let out its rooms to them.

To save some of the cost, Ahnnie roomed together with Josephine and Cassandra. There were a pair of twin beds which two of them would have to share when night came. Ahnnie felt slightly relieved when it was decided that it would be the two older women; she liked them, but not enough to share that much space with either one of them. Other such arrangements were made between the others and the soldiers, since the inn would have run out of room otherwise.

In the evening a modest supper was laid out for them in the little dining area by the lobby, presided over by the innkeeper's chittery wife. "Have a seat, have a seat, _mes chers invit_ _és_! Please, make yourself at home! Ah, here comes the food - don't forget to blow, it is hot! _Bon appetit_!" As they ate, she continued to hover over them, watching their movements like a hawk and inquiring sweetly after them every few minutes.

She was mightily pleased with the tips some soldiers left behind when they were done. Ahnnie had the feeling that if they kept it up, the woman would happily kick out the other guests and rent the entire inn to the Inquisition, regardless of what the Chantry thought.

 _Some people,_ she thought in amusement as she shook her head.

Rather than languish in boredom in their little room after supper, Ahnnie decided to get some fresh Orlesian air to settle the food in her stomach. She was inspired by the idea after seeing some Inquisition soldiers leave the inn for a stroll. If they could do it, why couldn't she? Besides, Josephine was reading a book by the lobby fireplace, and Cassandra was somewhere else, perhaps even out on a walk as well. They wouldn't miss her.

She felt a secret sort of thrill as she slipped out the inn's door and made her way down the quiet street. Her back and hip moved freely without the weight of her glaive-guisarme and short sword, adding to the sense of freedom that enveloped her like the warm night air. It felt good to be alone, with nothing but the soft city lights illuminating her cobblestoned way and her thoughts to keep her company. She would be sure to stick close to the inn, but at the moment felt charmed and allured by the Orlesian capital city; the stately buildings, with their ornate facades and windows, lost much of the hostile edge she had associated with them during the daytime (no thanks to Mother Hevara). Soft music wavering in the distance reminded her of the sprightly French tunes one would hear if one ate out at a French restaurant or listened to French music.

 _Mom likes listening to French music_ , she remembered.

She stopped by a lamp post to wait as a gilded carriage, transporting four fancily dressed and masked personages, clip-clopped through the street she wanted to cross. Her eyes followed the carriage until it was nothing but a sparkling speck in the lamplight, vanishing into nothing like a wispy dream. What an enchanting place Val Royeaux was! She could almost swear she had stepped into the pages of a fairy tale world.

Ahnnie turned her head back around to begin the crossing. What other wonders awaited her down the next block? The question filled her with curiosity and excitement, but all that fled a moment later when a thin, elongated shadow suddenly pierced the air before her. She jumped like a startled cat and gave a slight yelp, despite not having been hit.

"An arrow!" Ahnnie whispered when she registered what the object was. The arrow was lodged upright in the cobblestones two feet away from her, slanting at a slight angle. _Did someone try to shoot me?_ She whirled around, looking left, right, up, but saw nothing amiss in the lamplit city around her. Finally, she turned back around to face the arrow. It was then she noticed the folded piece of paper pinned beneath the arrowhead.

Frowning, she reached out and plucked the arrow out of the stones. She dropped it after taking hold of the paper, which she now slowly unfolded, half expecting another heart-stopping surprise to jump out at her.

What the paper contained was a surprise in its own way, even if it wasn't heart-stopping. It was a message scrawled in a large, flowing hand, and the perimeter of the paper was bordered by funny doodles; below the writing was a poorly drawn map of the Summer Bazaar that Ahnnie mistook at first for a crooked key. Three spots on the key were marked with red ink. As for the message itself:

_People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone._

_There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords._

_-Friends of Red Jenny_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a mistake about travel time from Jader to Val Royeaux (2.5 - 1.5 days rather than 1 - 3/4 of a day). Fixed it in the Homecoming chapter and this one.


	5. Sera

_Someone is following me._

The thought darkened the enchanting atmosphere like the snuffing out of a candle. A leaden weight burdened her chest, and the doodles on the paper suddenly seemed menacing.

_But who? And why?_

The message on the paper appeared harmless enough. If she believed it, then its author meant to help her. But the way it was delivered, and the mention of someone in the city wishing her harm...it was all too confusing. And that was not including the little scavenger hunt for 'red things'. She only wanted a relaxing evening, godammit. Not more of this scheming and intrigue.

But never mind that. She should report the incident to someone. Cassandra was the first person that came to mind.

Ahnnie refolded the paper and jogged back down her previous line of travel. She would break into a run, if need be; it was imperative that she not expose herself any longer than necessary in these quiet streets. But then she slowed until she came to a stop, her face burning with shame. _What am I, a baby? And Cassandra, my babysitter? The slightest hint of trouble, and I go running to her -_ except this wasn't a 'slight hint' of trouble. She would be completely justified in seeking help. So why did it make her feel incompetent?

A low humming in the night made her freeze. _Someone is here. The person who followed me?_ She looked up, for the humming originated from ahead of her, and she saw a big, dark figure walking slowly towards her. His face was very bushy, but she could not make it out in the dimness.

 _No, keep it cool. Maybe he's just a regular citizen. Pretend you're looking at that shop window there..._ Or would it be better if she just continued walking? Pass him by, act like she didn't notice him? Which would attract less attention?

She decided on the latter course, seeing as they would cross paths anyway, and resumed her stroll at a deliberate pace. Going too fast might make her seem shady, whereas if she supplemented with curious looks here and there, it would give her the appearance of a tourist bewitched by the beautiful city; as perfect a cover as someone like her could achieve. Whether the figure knew who she was or not was up to chance.

But as they neared each other, Ahnnie realized her misgivings were unfounded. With a bit of embarrassment, she recognized Blackwall's face under the soft illumination of a nearby lamp.

"Evening," the Warden nodded to her when they finally came face-to-face. "Out for a walk?"

Ahnnie smiled sheepishly. "Yeah..."

"It's nice weather out," he remarked. "For all their frippery, the Orlesians have some of the best climate their side of Thedas."

Ahnnie fidgeted, acutely aware of the paper in her hand. "Yeah," she echoed.

Blackwall arched an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

She pursed her lips. "Maybe...I..." Then it dawned on her. "Maybe you can help me!" Losing no time, she whipped out the folded paper and produced its contents for the Warden to see. She explained the circumstance behind its discovery as he took and read it carefully under the lamplight. "What do you think I should do?" she asked when he was done. "I don't have my weapons with me-"

"You don't mean to say you'll follow its directions?" Blackwall interrupted.

Ahnnie blushed. "Maybe it's just a prank. And those places - the market, docks, and cafe - they're not deserted areas, right? City guards should be there, and some of our people are out in the city as well. If I'm careful, perhaps it will turn out to be nothing, and I can go back to doing...well, whatever. Maybe _you_ can come along to help." She looked up at him pleadingly. "I just don't think it's such a big deal that we have to alert someone like...like Cassandra, for example."

She was still displeased to hear herself sound like she was asking for his permission. Whether she would go regardless of his answer was still an unanswered question, however. She wanted to deal with something on her own, yet have someone capable like Blackwall beside her in case she should run into trouble.

"If I find anything dangerous, I'll return immediately to the inn," she decided to add.

Blackwall looked down at the paper in his hand, then up at the girl before him. She worried for a moment that he would decline, and mentally berated herself for even having that worry, as though she should depend on him so much. "All right," he finally conceded, much to her surprise. "Go get a weapon, and we'll see what all this is about. Don't make yourself too conspicuous, though."

"Y-yes," she nodded, hardly able to believe they were going to go through with this. It was one thing to think of doing it; it was another to actually do it. She set off for the inn again at a jog, but not to hide from invisible enemies in the shadows this time.

* * *

 

"Right, so this is the marketplace-"

"Yes, and there's the locations of the red things marked in red." Obvious, much? "But I'm no good with maps. Do you think you can equate the marked spots to actual ones?"

Blackwall studied the paper as they walked towards the Summer Bazaar. "This is where we'll enter from," he said, pointing at a spot on the crooked key. "Closest red thing to us would be right here - either the cafe or some spot in the market." There were two red marks in the circle of the Bazaar, one on a lower level, another on an upper level. They weren't entirely sure yet which level the cafe was on, but Blackwall was pointing to the lower one.

"Should we split up, then?" Ahnnie asked. Since there were two items located within the Bazaar, she figured it would speed their progress if they went in search of each.

"Which level do you want to take?"

"The upper one, I guess?" _I didn't get to see that part of the market yet,_ she added as an afterthought. Funny how this was becoming a little sight-seeing venture as well.

Blackwall nodded. "All right. When you're done, meet me at the blue tower in the middle. And if I'm not there, you wait 'til I am," he added with a warning glance.

"Of course," she replied, rather chafed at how childish he seemed to think her.

They reached the Bazaar in ten minutes. Unlike that morning, it now glittered with sedate nightlife, flickering against the darkness like a gem in candlelight. Sweet music floated in the air as soft as a lover's whisper, and masked figures flitted between the arcades like elusive fairy creatures in a gilded wood, giggling and flirting with one another in their lyrical native tongue. To complete the picture, the tinkling of a fountain could be heard somewhere nearby.

Blackwall pointed to a section of the marketplace that led away from the main ringlike structure. "That's where I'll do my search," he said, and pointing to a staircase by her right, "That's where you'll do yours. You should find your object somewhere along the edge of the terrace."

Ahnnie nodded. "All right."

And so they went their separate ways. As Ahnnie climbed the tiled steps, her short sword clinking gently against her thigh (she decided to leave the glaive behind, as it could be mistaken for a staff in the distance), the thought of the whole affair being a sham briefly crossed her mind.

_If it is, fine. But if it isn't...well, we'll see how it goes._

* * *

 

Blackwall followed the fragrance of delicately spiced Orlesian food to a small open air cafe, artfully canopied by the terrace above. He checked the paper Ahnnie had given him and nodded to himself when he realized this was it; this was the place marked in the lower level of the market. But where, exactly, was this mysterious 'red thing'?

" _Bonsoir_ _monsieur,_ and welcome to La Pâquerette! How many in your party?"

The Warden's dark head turned to regard the spindly little man before him, a cheery waiter with perfectly coiffed blonde hair. He realized then that he might have to accept some of the cafe's services if he wished to search for his object without suspicion. "Just me," he answered gruffly.

"Splendid! Follow me, _s'il vout plais_!"

Blackwall followed him to a lonely little table in the corner, searching the surroundings for a red object as he did so. He was disappointed to have seen none as he sat down on the dainty little chair. The waiter then plopped a menu before him, asking what he would like to have as a drink to start the meal. He also said something about the chef's special, but Blackwall cut in before he could go into detail.

"Just a glass of _vin rouge_ ," the Warden said. "I'm not hungry."

The waiter nodded bouyantly. "A gentleman of fine taste," he complimented. "Your Orlesian is excellent as well."

Blackwall granted him a small grin. "I did my fair share in the imperial army when I was younger," he explained.

"Ah! An imperial soldier! Then I salute you, _monsieur._ " The waiter gave him a mock salute that was much too flamboyant to really be called a salute before taking back the menu and finally leaving Blackwall alone.

 _The imperial army,_ Blackwall thought. _An interesting time, that._ The waiter returned to set a glass of red wine on the table, which Blackwall held to his lips for a contemplative sip; fruity, with some floral notes. _I wasn't at my best when I joined. But I did good. Up until..._

"...says the Warden has taken up with the Inquisition."

"And one walks among us. How exciting!"

Blackwall looked up from his glass and saw two masked ladies fanning themselves at a table not too far from his. One sat stiff and dignified; the other was giggly and coquettish. Upon seeing him look in their direction, the coquettish one bat her eyelashes demurely and hid her giggles not-so-completely with her elaborate fan.

"And alarming," the stiffer one put in, disapproving of her companion's flirty antics.

So as not to appear a rude gentleman, Blackwall nodded in a courtly manner back at them. It would show that he had heard their exchange but thought no ill of the stiffer one's disdain. This caused the coquettish one much delight, as her excited chittering denoted. As she leaned back in her seat to whisper something in the stiffer woman's ear, her foot made a delicate movement beneath the table's low hanging cloth. A wispy red handkerchief then floated out, having been kicked by her dainty shoe.

Blackwall perked up at the sight of it. A red handkerchief! Could it be one of the 'red things' specified in the piece of paper? But he couldn't just walk up to their table and take it from them. It might even belong to either lady - it might mean nothing, beyond being red.

He found the perfect excuse to confirm his suspicions as he left his seat to pick up the handkerchief and hold it before the ladies. Prior to that, he noticed what felt like a crinkly piece of parchment beneath the fabric but pretended not to notice, if in case it really was the personal property of one of these two madmoiselles. "Pardon me, but is this yours?" he asked in as suave a manner as he could muster.

The stiffer woman grew even stiffer at the sight of his approach. " _Non_ ," she answered sharply, "it is not mine."

The coquettish one smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth framed by freshly rouged lips. " _Non_ , it is not mine either, but you are kind to inquire about it."

"I just didn't want you to lose something you might miss," he demurred.

"And that is very gallant of you," the coquette complimented.

"Ah, well - I try."

"Your efforts are appreciated," the stiffer one put in, sending another disapproving look her companion's way. He then realized that she might be the coquette's older relative; with their masks on, it was difficult to tell their age by their faces. Some of that suspicion turned out to be true when the coquette reluctantly gave him one last teasing look before ending their exchange.

Blackwall returned to his seat to finish up the wine. With a careful gesture, he unfurled the red handkerchief that he kept balled in his fist, laying it on his lap so that no one else could see, and picked apart the crumpled parchment within. On it was written in a simple script:

_Thank you Friends for helping good lady Keris. Saw those who asked about the Herald enter third passage. Could not stay to see them exit._

So, there _was_ something to this little intrigue after all. Blackwall balled the handkerchief and parchment into his fist again, shoving it quickly into a pocket before resuming his casual sipping of the red wine. When he finished, he left money on the table and bid the exuberant waiter adieu.

* * *

 

The terraces of the upper market offered a sweeping view of the Bazaar below, and at a certain angle, of the docks and the sea in the distance. The air was cooler here, and the night breeze, gentle. _Is this what visiting Europe would have felt like?_ Ahnnie wondered, noting how similar Val Royeaux seemed to the antiquated corners of famous European cities - at least, what she saw of them through pictures. Yet there was something of its own charm here, something distinctly Thedosian that was not to be found elsewhere on Earth. Perhaps an art critic could describe it better.

For now, she was having trouble finding her 'red thing'. She looked behind potted plants, between cracks in the walls, beneath benches and tables, but found nothing red...nothing red that stood out, anyway. A lot of the upholstery was a rich burgundy red, and a nearby shop displayed red dresses in its window, but she hardly thought they were the 'red things' indicated on the message. She looked at them anyway to see if they held any hidden clues, but found none that made sense to her.

She was only able to do this by maneuvering in ways so as not to be seen by people, for there were people here, and they were of the masked variety. If she remembered correctly, only those of noble birth and their servants could wear masks. Blatantly stooping down to check under benches or rifling through the trimmed leaves of a potted bush would not have gone unnoticed nor unpunished. She had already been drawing some attention with her masklessness - what would happen if they recognized her as the 'Herald of Andraste'?

So she did much of her searching whilst posturing, pretending to be taken in with a certain wall to run her fingers past its cracks, or impressed with the velvety softness of a particular bench, or appreciative of the scents of some flowers growing from the potted bushes. All this, while doing her best to distance herself from the Orlesians around her.

It took her quite a while as a result, and she quickly grew frustrated with the lack of success. By the time she reached the end of the upper market opposite from where she ascended, she had already noticed Blackwall waiting at the tower for some thirty minutes.

 _That's it,_ she thought, _I give up. It's nothing but a sham. I've searched high and low, I'm_ sure _I didn't miss anything, but nope, nothing. This was stupid._

Ahnnie huffed as she stormed her way towards the staircase. Never had she felt so humiliated - so used! She felt especially regretful for dragging Blackwall into the mess. _He must've found nothing and was wise enough to stop searching as soon as he knew,_ she thought. What a waste of both their time. Oh, well - at least Cassandra didn't get involved. That would have been even _more_ embarrassing.

But when she reached the landing, she noticed something from the corner of her eye by the nearest potted plant. It looked like a dark ball wedged between the pot and the wall. She backed up a few steps to make sure she wasn't seeing things, and sure enough, there was the dark little ball wedged in that spot. Its color was difficult to discern in the shadows between the wall and pot, but she ensured no one was around before bending down to retrieve it. It was the only out-of-place thing so far; she might as well check it out.

 _A sock?_ she thought as she felt the wooliness of the ball. She pulled until it came free, and went to the railing to observe it by lamplight. "It's red!" she exclaimed to herself. And as she unfurled it, it was indeed a sock. _But...that's it? Just a sock?_ She frowned, wondering who on earth would go through the effort of shooting a message to her while she was alone, at a precise time in the dark...just for her to find a sock.

Ahnnie held up the sock, examining its every fiber for some sort of clue. Then she reluctantly dug into it, trying not to think of the sweaty foot it once graced. To her surprise, her fingers touched paper. When she withdrew her hand, she found a piece of paper torn from the corner of what used to be an ornate document. Her eyes instantly jumped upon the words written on it - from two different hands, she noticed - but to her dismay, she found that they were in another language.

The runes were more or less the same than Common, but when she tried reading the first line, she received a nonsensical string of sounds: _ay noo devon bayeer bien..._

 _Is it Orlesian?_ she wondered, and wished she'd learnt the language before coming here.

Before she could give up, she came to the second set of writing and realized it was in Common, albeit mispelled: _Herold go at time. Praise Adrast._

Heart beating anxiously, she rushed down the stairs and headed straight for Blackwall. The bearded Warden was following her approach with his eyes, and he unfolded his arms when she came close.

"Did you find anything?" he asked her, noticing the sock in her hands.

Ahnnie held it out before him, then the torn paper. "I found these balled up beside a potted plant, and the paper was stuffed into the sock." When he took the paper, she rushed to inform him, "The writing at the top is in a different language, though."

Blackwall squinted at it, then read aloud, "... _and we are to obey well. We meet at ten bells to discuss how best to serve the new way._ "

Ahnnie blinked. "How did you...?"

"I know some Orlesian," he explained, and flipped the paper to look at the other side. When he found nothing, he handed it back to her. "It's cut off from a sentence, but I think its meaning is clear."

"Someone's meeting somewhere at ten?" Ahnnie guessed.

"Most likely. I found this by the cafe-" he held out his handkerchief, with its crumpled parchment "-and it seems to talk about a path to take. Now there's only the 'red thing' at the docks. After we find that, we'll try piecing the mystery together."

Blackwall found something, after all! Ahnnie felt relieved; _so this wasn't completely useless. Thank god!_

Emboldened by their discoveries, they headed for the docks, going down the same path they took to reach the Summer Bazaar earlier in the day. As the Bazaar faded from view, so did the gentlefolk along with it; less and less people were found hanging around these secluded areas, and the ones they did see looked like the rougher sort. Once they arrived at the docks, swearing could be openly heard, but of the people who swore, they were difficult to make out in the darkness. Only a few lights glowed against the gloom.

Ahnnie stepped closer to Blackwall. "We shouldn't stay here too long," she observed.

Blackwall grunted, but his attention was on the map of the folded paper. At any rate, he didn't look like someone who was easily spooked by places such as these. It took him a while to make it out in the darkness, but eventually he was able to see where the red mark on the paper equated to the docks around them. He turned back to look at their point of entry, then back again to get a lay of the land, and slowly stalked along the harbor to where he believed their last object lay. His careful gait reminded Ahnnie of their hunting trip in the woods; and in a way, they were hunting for something. Just a different sort of thing, and for a different sort of purpose.

Finally, he stopped by a pile of crates and nets. Ahnnie almost ran into him; her eyes had been fixated on a couple of burly silhouettes in the distance. She quickly apologized and asked him what was the matter.

"See if you can find anything in there," he instructed, pointing to the pile.

They both bent down and groped amongst the nets, peeking into crates and the spaces between them; Ahnnie fought the urge to shout 'Aha!' when she felt a soft piece of cloth. She drew it out and put it under the scant light to see its color. Red! Perfect! And it was tied around a rusty little key. She quickly relayed this to Blackwall and they withdrew as soon as they could from the docks. Just as well, for the silhouettes Ahnnie had seen walked by their previous spot not too long afterward.

When they were back within the Bazaar, Blackwall untied the cloth from the key. He shook it out to see if there were any hidden papers, but there were none. Then he examined it beneath a lamp post, and read these hastily scrawled words:

_Key lifted from drunk swearing about Herald. Don't know what door. I'm out, my debt is paid._

The Warden nodded in satisfaction. "This is it," he declared. "We've found everything."

Ahnnie withdrew her torn paper and Blackwall, the crumpled parchment, and they set to discussing the three clues in hushed tones.

"So this one talks about a time, yours talks about a path, and this last one is a key to someplace," Ahnnie said, summing it up. "Are we missing anything? Do you think Lady Keris and the 'new way' tie into this somehow?"

Blackwall frowned. "I don't think they do, at least not immediately."

"Where do you think this 'third passage' is, then?"

"Hold a moment..." Blackwall looked up, then around the Bazaar. "Ah! That arch over there - _Etienne III_ \- looks like our passage. The others are marked with names, but no numbers. If not, then my hands are tied. Maker knows how many paths and passages this city has."

Ahnnie looked, and found what Blackwall observed to be true. "All right, then! What do we do next?"

Just as she said so, the clock began to strike. _One...two...three..._

"Great Maker," Blackwall swore, "that's the ten bells ringing."

"What?" Ahnnie asked, bewildered. "Are you sure?"

_Four...five...six..._

"Last I heard was nine. It's got to be it; there's no mistake."

"Then..."

_Seven...eight...nine..._

Blackwall nodded at the arch bearing _Etienne III_ over it in gilded letters as the last, and tenth, bell rung. "Let's take a quick look. What could it hurt?"

* * *

 

The wrought iron gate swung cleanly on its hinges as Ahnnie pushed it open. With a nod to Blackwall, they quietly slipped through, and Ahnnie was thankful that the gate was both unlocked and freshly oiled.

The passage leading from the arch of _Etienne III_ had not been very long. It wasn't exactly a single passage, for it took them through a regular city street, but Blackwall figured that they only had to keep straight to find their place. If not, they would simply go back and forget about the whole business. Since they ended up finding it, though, they realized the path had led them into the secluded courtyard of a big manor house. Except for a few crates scattered here and there, it was completely empty. Directly ahead of them was a blue door set into the wall.

Ahnnie held up the key. "Think this is it?" she asked Blackwall, nodding at the door.

"We won't know until we try," he reminded her, and they both stepped cautiously up to the door.

Ahnnie inserted the key into the hole, twisting it gently for fear of making a noise. The courtyard seemed empty, but that emptiness worked in turn to unnerve her; what if the manor's occupants should be alerted to their presence? No, even worse - what if somebody lay in wait on the other side?

With a click, the door was unlocked. Holding in her breath, Ahnnie twisted the knob and pushed it open, hairs rising on the back of her neck as it gave a thin, whining creak. She waited until Blackwall was beside her before daring to take the first step...

 _Fwoom!_ A ball of fire the size of her fist suddenly rushed at her. She yelped and jumped back in the nick of time to avoid it, suffering only from lightly singed hair ends.

Blackwall's hand went to the hilt of his sword as he steadied the girl with his other hand. "You all right?" he asked.

Ahnnie looked down at the curling crisps of her singed hair. "I-I'm fine," she stammered, and pushed herself upright. She, too, made a grab for her short sword. _There_ _must be a mage; I've got to be care-_

"Herald of Andraste!" a heavily accented voice called out. Ahnnie looked up to find it coming from a nobly dressed Orlesian sauntering into her line of view, his golden mask gleaming from the light of the manor's windows. "How much effort did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!"

Ahnnie looked around the courtyard; there didn't seem to be other people. _So that fireball came from him? He doesn't look like a mage._ Then again, he could have been using an enchanted object. But even more baffling was his strange claim about them expending so much effort; beyond the effort used to find the objects and decipher their clues, that is. "What? We don't even know who you are!" she protested.

"You don't fool me!" he spat. "I'm too important for this to be an accident! My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!"

"No really, we-"

She was interrupted by a scream that sounded from around the corner, and both she, Blackwall, and even the noble turned their heads toward its source. There they found a blue liveried corpse being pushed to the ground as a young elven archer notched a new arrow to her bow and aimed it at the masked noble.

"Just say, 'what!'," the elven archer shouted.

Incensed, the Orlesian noble roared, "What is the-"

An arrow flew right into his face, silencing him with a piercing shot through the eye hole. It gave out a thick spurt of blood before the now deceased noble fell onto his back.

Ahnnie stared at the noble, her mouth agape. Then she stared at the archer, who was regarding his corpse with a look of disgust.

"Eeugh!" the archer gagged. "Squishy one, but you heard me, right? 'Just say, "what."' Rich tits always try for more than they deserve."

"R-rich ti..." Ahnnie dumbly echoed, wondering whether to be appalled by the archer's colorful vocabulary or the bloody man on the ground.

Blackwall furrowed his brows. "Who are you, and what's going on here?" he demanded.

But if the elven archer heard, she didn't show it. " _Blah, blah, blah!_ Obey me! Arrow in my face!" she taunted, her tone childish and mischievous. She went over to the corpse, plucked the bloody arrow from the noble's eye, and stuck it back into her quiver. She next sauntered over to Ahnnie, looking her up and down as though to appraise a piece of merchandise.

Ahnnie backed up a step, slightly unnerved.

"So," the archer began, tossing back a stray strand of her bobbed blonde hair, "you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're..." She made a disappointed face. "You're kind of plain, really. All that talk, and then you're just...a person. I mean, it's all good, innit?" she asked, perking up again. "The important thing is, you glow. You're the Herald-thingy."

Ahnnie gasped. "So you're the one who shot me that message!"

The archer chuckled. "Yeah. Frightened you, didn't I? ' _Yaaah_ '," she mock-screamed in a high falsetto note, imitated the way Ahnnie had jumped, and then chuckled again. "Hilarious."

Ahnnie cringed at the reenactment. _She's...certainly something..._

"Mind telling us what's going on?" Blackwall asked again, glowering pointedly at the eccentric elf.

She shrugged. "No idea. I don't know this idiot from manners." She nodded at the noble, then went on, "My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."

"Your people? Elves?" Blackwall asked.

"Ha! No. _People_ people."

"Who?" Ahnnie asked.

But the elf must have mistook her meaning, for she introduced herself whilst pointing at some nearby crates, "Name's Sera, this is cover. Get round it."

The Warden and the Herald exchanged confused glances with one another, wondering yet again what the elf meant.

"For the reinforcements," Sera clarified. "Don't worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed." Her eyebrows went up as her grin widened. "They've got no breeches!"

It wasn't until Sera pulled Ahnnie down behind a crate that she realized the elf was talking about oncoming guards. Blackwall knelt down with them as well, but only after hearing the pitter-patter of harried footsteps coming from the farther end of the courtyard.

"Shh," Sera hushed them with an index to her plump lips, though neither of them had made a sound. They waited in silence, listening to the footsteps grow louder. As soon as the first few guards could be heard exclaiming angrily at the sight of the dead noble, Sera notched an arrow to her bow and leapt up from her hiding spot. Ahnnie heard a _twang_ and then the arrow itself whistling through the air before connecting with its target, which went down in a heavy _thump_.

Blackwall rolled out of hiding a moment later to intercept a guard, and then Ahnnie followed suit with her short sword unsheathed. But the moment she laid eyes on the two guards rushing at them, her eyes widened in disbelief and a hearty laugh escaped her lips.

 _No breeches!_ The guards were wearing no breeches!

"Told you, didn't I?" Sera called out to her.

Ahnnie pursed her lips to stifle the laughter, but it came out anyway in bursting intervals. She knew she should be afraid, should be focused on keeping her short sword in front of her to do some damage to the incensed guardsmen, but every time she saw their bare legs pumping angrily in that funny run of theirs, clothed by nothing more than boxer briefs, she couldn't help but laugh again.

Blackwall slapped a guard's blade away and knocked him out with the pommel of his sword. "More coming!" he alerted them, and charged to meet another breechless guard.

Sera took care of two of them pretty quickly. "C'mon, Herald," she goaded Ahnnie. "Don't be a rich tit! Give us a hand!"

Ahnnie wiped the tears from her eyes. "O-okay," she wheezed, and cleared her throat before rushing out to aid Blackwall. The guard who had been a part of the first two jumped in her way, having tried to cut down Sera beforehand but was unable to out of fear for her arrows. Seeing an easy target in Ahnnie, he decided to divert his efforts there.

"Laugh again, you little tart!" the guard spat. "Come, I dare you!"

Ahnnie exchanged ringing blows with his sword, her face strained now with the effort of keeping in time with his every movement. Her swordplay had not much improved since the last lesson with Cassandra, but she had a fair grasp of how to move thanks to the practice fights between her and some recruits that the Seeker arranged, in which both sides held nothing back and fought honestly. Spying a little opening in the guard's stance, Ahnnie remembered a trick Cassandra taught her and used it to her advantage, locking the guard's blade into the corner between her blade and hilt, before twisting it away, leaving him defenseless.

 _Perfect,_ Ahnnie thought, glad to have the chance to end this fight - until she realized that meant killing him. Except for his legs, there was no other opening in his armor except for a sizable slit that revealed his neck. So she paused, her short sword raised, not knowing what to do.

"What're you waitin' for? Finish him!" Sera cried.

 _I can't!_ Ahnnie wanted to cry back, but no word made its way to her tongue. The guard, sensing his good luck, made a dive for his fallen sword. As he came up armed again, Ahnnie realized the danger she put herself through and swung her sword at him in a panic. She screamed in horror when the end of her blade sliced clean through his windpipe, blood gushing forth to splatter on her boots - either she had misjudged her aim, or the guard had moved his head up at the wrong time.

Blackwall dashed the blunt end of his blade against his guard's helmet, knocking the man out in a clash of vibrating metal. Another guard fell upon him, but he pushed the man away with some quick blows before rushing to Ahnnie as fast as he could. "What's wrong?" he asked when he realized she wasn't in danger. "Are you hurt?"

Ahnnie shook her head. Strangely, despite her initial horror, she felt...she felt nothing. With a dazed look at Blackwall, she asked, "Are there any more?"

"Just one-"

As if on cue, Sera shot him.

"Never mind. No more left. But not all of them are dead. We'll want to get out of here before they wake up." He grabbed hold of her arm and gestured for Sera to retreat. "Come on. Let's go."

The three of them slipped out of the blue door and then beyond the wrought iron gate into the shadows of the alleyway. When they were at a safe enough distance, ensconced behind the wall of a nearby building, they stopped to catch their breaths. Ahnnie in particular was doubled over, hands on her knees, staring in lamentation at her boots. _They're a mess! I have to wipe them before I get back to the inn._

Sera was the first to break the silence. "Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!" She laughed; a queer, rapidfire sound of mirth. "So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one. I'd like to join."

Ahnnie looked up. "What?"

"Y'know. Fight the baddies, restore 'order'...whatever it is you're doing."

"You haven't answered our questions yet," Blackwall pointed out. "Who exactly are you, and what've we been doing?"

Sera looked a little flustered. "All right, so there's a name...no, wait, two. It's...well, it's like this. I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me. Well, I'm one," she said, ticking down a finger, "so is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall...there were three in Starkhaven, brothers or something." She gave up soon after and lowered her hands back to her sides. "It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, 'friends', be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I'm Sera. 'The Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows." She grinned.

"I'm Ahnnie," Ahnnie introduced herself, "and this is Blackwall." The Warden gave her a frown, as if he hadn't approved of letting his name be known, but she ignored it. "So...you're offering spies? Is that what Friends of Red Jenny is?"

Sera sighed, and put up her hands as if to frame a picture. "Okay, here's how it is. You 'important' people are up here, shoving your cods around. 'Blah, blah, I'll crush you. I'll crush _you_!" Then she puckered her lips and made little kissy sounds. "Oh, crush _you_..."

Ahnnie made a face. "Okay..."

"Ahem. Then you've got cloaks and spy-kings. Like that tit. Remember? Arrow-in-the-face? Or he was one of the little knives? All serious with his...little knife." She shook her head. "All those secrets, and what gave him up? Some houseboy who don't know shite, but knows a bad person when he sees one. So no, I'm not Knifey Shivdark, all hidden. But if you don't listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards. I stole their..." Her voice threatened to give way to giggling again, but she shook it away with a stern expression. "Look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?"

Ahnnie exchanged glances with Blackwall again. She was still very much confused even after the listening to Sera's lengthy explanation, but apparently the 'Friends of Red Jenny' were a Robin Hood-esque group that shared a tight network between a select few. Or so Sera said. Whatever the case, Ahnnie knew she couldn't trust the elf blindly. They'd just met, and in the strangest of circumstances.

At last, she gave her answer. "Well, Sera..."

* * *

 

Blackwall and Ahnnie walked beneath the lamplight on their way back to _L'auberge de Licorne_ , their weapons newly cleaned and Ahnnie's boots freshly wiped thanks to the red handkerchief Blackwall still kept in his pocket. They had been mostly quiet, not speaking more than a few words to ask how the other was doing. They were both tired from the unexpected fight and the ship journey - was that just this morning? It felt like a decade ago! - and Ahnnie was trying to discern why she felt so normal.

Hadn't she just killed another person? Or at least, seriously injured him? But she had no doubt that he was dead by now. She'd sliced through his neck, and he'd lost so much blood...it'd be a miracle if he still lived.

And yet, somehow, she wasn't frantic over it. Not like she had been with the archer in the Crossroads.

"Not used to killing?" Blackwall asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Ahnnie perked her head up. "Not really...I think. How'd you know I was thinking of that?"

"You've got that look in your eye. I've seen it in recruits before." The Warden crossed his arms. "Was that guard your first?"

She shook her head. "No. My first was an archer in the Hinterlands. I, uh...hurt him pretty badly." She was reluctant to let him know of the more violent truth behind that story. "I'm just confused right now," she explained. "Either it's because of how extreme the first one was, or if it's because the guard had a helmet on to cover his face, but...I didn't feel much of anything with the, uh, second one. And I'm wondering if that's wrong."

Blackwall sighed. "That's nothing strange. But think of it this way: if you didn't killed him, he would've killed you. Both the archer and the guard; they wouldn't have stopped to spare your life. You had no choice."

Ahnnie frowned. "But...but you didn't kill all the guards you fought. You knocked most of them out. I..."

"You're not strong enough to make a blow that hard with your sword," he explained. "Not yet, anyway. And yes, I admit, I'd prefer not to kill unless it's necessary. But remember that word: necessary. Sometimes it just is. Not wrong, or right...just necessary."

She mustered up a small smile. "I guess you have a point...it's just that I used to think of it as something completely wrong. I never thought about killing in self-defense, though. It was only in terms of murdering. Society where I come from is heavily regulated and _really_ looks down on that sort of thing." She knew for certain that what she'd done here in Thedas would have landed her in jail back in America.

"It'll ruin you, but only if you let it," Blackwall then said.

Ahnnie would have responded, except that they had arrived at the inn by that time. They were just in time, for the innkeeper's wife had been ready to lock the doors. When Ahnnie returned to the room she shared with Josephine and Cassandra, though, it was to find the Seeker in a displeased mood.

"Where have you been?" Cassandra reproached her, arms crossed against her chest. Josephine was already asleep in one of the twin beds, dark hair splayed against her pillow.

Ahnnie blushed. "Oh, I was out with Blackwall, because..." She proceeded to tell Cassandra of the night's events, from the arrow-borne message to the little scavenger hunt, and then the scene at the secluded courtyard leading up to Sera's acquaintance and request to join the Inquisition.

"And you just accepted?" Cassandra asked flatly. "Without knowing who she was? She could have been lying to you."

"Well..." Ahnnie shrugged. "She was being persistent, and if what she said was true, she could give us some insight on what's going on at the bottom of the social hierarchy." At least, that's what Ahnnie believed she meant by the ones 'down here'. "And maybe Leliana knows more about the Friends of Red Jenny, so that's why I thought it wouldn't be a problem. Besides, Sera can't do anything to me here or on the way back to Haven; we have our soldiers, right?"

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the girl before shaking her head. "You have brought up good points, and if this 'Sera' is as determined as she seems, then she can meet with Leliana and make better her offers there. Next time, however, I would advise you not to be so careless. It is late now; go to sleep."

Ahnnie nodded and went to her side of the bed to get undressed. She slipped herself into a simple nightshirt and crawled into bed just at the moment Cassandra blew out the candle. With a yawn, the girl gave into her fatigue and fell asleep.

Val Royeaux - what a city! And what would come next?


	6. Madame de Fer

The Revered Mothers Hevara, Alethea, and Bernette arranged themselves primly around the low stone table. They sat together at one edge of the circle, three red-robed fingers crowning a spherical palm; opposite them sat the golden-ruffled figure of the former Antivan ambassador, Lady Josephine Montilyet, and the fresh-faced heretic known as the Herald of Andraste, whose name they loathed to pronounce.

Mother Hevara was seated in between her fellow sisters, flanked by the stout Mother Bernette on her left and the high-strung Mother Alethea on her right. Both parties sat silent in the spacious council room even as a fragrant tea was served for their refreshment, and after the first few sips had taken place.

"Revered Chantry Mothers, we are honored for this chance to sit before you today," Lady Josephine began, her smooth voice rolling along the flowery nuances of her accent. "Truly, it is a blessing to be in your presence. We are most pleased that you have agreed to our request of an audience." She spoke as though this was a meeting between numerous dignitaries. In truth, there should have been more Mothers present, but as Mother Hevara had said on that cursed day, most of the clerics were scattered in their opinions. It was a miracle that Alethea and Bernette agreed to come at all.

Beside the ambassador, the young heretic smiled, almond eyes glittering deceptively in the sunlight streaming through the windows. As if in mockery of the Mothers, some of that light touched her cheek, setting her sickly colored skin aglow.

It was not natural, that pale golden tone. As far as Mother Hevara knew, it occurred not at all in any of the inhabitants of Thedas, not unless the fairer ones were ill; but even then it wouldn't be that exact shade. That should have been enough to signal to most others that this was no regular resident of Thedas. And when she claimed to be touched by Andraste, it should have made her even more suspicious as an obvious ploy to bewitch those who laid eyes on her, to stir their greed of gold and have them believe it a symbol of Andraste's choice, though she herself was not remarkably beautiful. But Mother Hevara did not blame the ones who accepted or tolerated her; it was not Thedosian custom to discriminate based on skin color. The races themselves were already divided enough; why exacerbate the problem with standards of skin pigmentation? A human was a human, a Qunari a Qunari, an elf an elf, _etcetera, etcetera_ , regardless of their hues.

"We are understanding of your desire to make amends with the Chantry," said Mother Hevara, choosing her words carefully. "I only regret that it was not possible upon our first meeting."

Josephine smiled sympathetically. "Of course, it was not an amenable day for negotiations. Even if we could, we would not have pushed them upon you in good conscience. But those obstacles are no longer present; we hope to reach a satisfactory agreement as a result of today."

Next to Josephine, the heretic stirred. "Are you feeling better, Mother Hevara?" she asked, her tone innocent. "You fell rather hard that day. I was afraid you had injured yourself badly."

Alethea and Bernette sent brief glances at Mother Hevara from the corners of their eyes. The Mother herself resumed her placid expression, although a flash of pain from the memory of the punch flared briefly at the back of her head and her side. "I am well, thank you," she answered formally. That was as much warmth as she was willing to give the heretic; it displeased her not a little that the catastrophic events of their first encounter were brought up at all. _So_ _Lady Montilyet has shown her how to polish her tongue,_ Mother Hevara thought, noticing the new smoothness and timing to the Herald's words; they had been choppy and informal several days ago.

"That is good to hear. I only hope we have not come at an improper time," Josephine then said, looking round at the empty chairs. "I take it that most of the Mothers are occupied by more pressing matters? Should we return at later date?"

"'They will see what can be gained, and though we are few against the wind, we are yours'," intoned Mother Bernette. "Trials five, verse one." The stout little woman cleared her throat and smiled pleasantly at Josephine. "I fear we miss an opportunity if we postpone this meeting further to wait for our fellow sisters. All of us here at the Chantry have been frightfully busy on account of the next Divine Election; you _are_ aware of how suddenly it is being thrust upon us."

"Of course," the ambassador nodded. But crafty little thing she was, she knew the truth. Mother Hevara could feel it.

"We shall, of course, pass this on to our fellow sisters," Alethea chimed in. "Not much is left unknown between us; as servants of the Maker and reciters of the Chant of Light, we seldom keep each other in the dark about such matters."

That, too, was a falsehood one such as Lady Josephine could easily see through. But it was the custom of statescraft to make such statements, was it not? "Well, then, I believe we can move forward without hesitance."

At this, the false Herald straightened in her seat. She held her head up to gaze directly into the Revered Mothers' eyes and said, "I want to make my position clear to the Chantry. I know you believe I killed the Divine and plan to usurp the Chantry, as well as other things. I know _why_ you think that, but I want to tell you today that none of it is true."

"We have only your words to stand for it, whereas we have seen what seems to be clear evidence," Mother Alethea put in. "Divine Justinia's death stands foremost in this pile of debris; how is it that you survived the explosion at the Conclave, while every other attendee perished? And what was our Most Holy being held in sacrifice for, if not so you could cross over into our world?"

"Let us not forget, the youngest Trevelyan fell victim to this sacrifice as well," added Mother Bernette.

The young heretic seemed unsurprised to hear the accusations. Whether it was because Lady Josephine schooled her well, or she was used to them by now, she answered them in an even and practiced manner. "I've heard these things before," she said. "They were the exact same things brought against me when I woke up in Haven. Unfortunately, I can't tell you anything now beyond what I've said then: I did not kill the Divine or Bann Trevelyan's son. In fact, I was in danger in my world right before I crossed into this one, from a rift that opened in my backyard. If I survived the explosion, it's most likely because I was not there in the first place. Chosen or not, no one could survive a blast that huge. Don't you agree?"

Mother Hevara waved the matter away with a dismissive hand. "Indeed, that is a given; but you forget that if it was a ritual aimed to summon you, then of course you would be unharmed."

"If I was summoned, then I didn't know it," the heretic answered frankly. She sighed. "If I could have done something to stop the explosion, to keep all those people from dying, then I would have done it. If there's a chance to do so now, I would trade everything I have to do it. You may not believe me, but I am disturbed by all this just as much as you are. Yes, I have nothing but words to defend me, but I cannot answer you otherwise, because to do so would be to lie."

"Very well. Assuming that is true - why does the Inquisition make a stand as its own entity? Divine Justinia wished to reinstate it only if the Conclave failed. However, the Conclave was destroyed before we could even know what became of it. Explain to me why this must be so." Mother Hevara sat back as she finished, challenging the heretic with a level gaze.

The heretic stared at her awhile, as if considering what to say, before answering, "The Inquisition exists because we want to help."

Mother Alethea and Mother Bernette leaned forward in their seats, as if they hadn't heard her correctly. "To _help_?" Mother Alethea echoed incredulously.

"The templars have gone rogue, the mages continue to rebel, and the explosion took away all of your higher-ranked clerics; I know it would be the first instinct of the Chantry to try and restore order, but you must agree that you cannot do it on your own." Her brown eyes slanted in sympathy. "To take on so many duties at once, and to be able to open your hearts in such troubling times...that's admirable."

Mother Hevara noticed the confused glances of her sisters, but did not deign to return them. _This is new,_ she thought, considering the Inquisition's hostile stance that Chancellor Roderick initially reported to them. _But of course, it is of the sly ambassador's doing,_ she next thought as she watched the Antivan woman's carefully composed expression. There was no way this bumbling child could have thought of that all on her own.

"Now I know why Mother Giselle made me feel so warm when I spoke to her," the false Herald was saying, and Mother Hevara's attention returned to her. "And why she was doing all she could for the refugees at the Crossroads. Can you blame us for wanting to help as well? Many people in Thedas have charitable hearts, and that includes the Inquisition. I know, it seems presumptuous of us to take the late Divine Justinia's writ into our own hands - but as the Chantry has proved, good work can be done better when in greater numbers. And what the Chantry needs right now is not another child to care for, but an ally to stand at its side."

The Chantry, allied to the Inquisition? Preposterous! Mother Alethea and Mother Bernette were fast losing the battle of holding in their protestations, and Mother Hevara felt the heat rise in her chest as well at the notion of this...this scandalous idea! But she knew they must rein in their emotions. So she said, "Should that be true, we would gladly welcome the chance to let fellow Thedosians do good in the name of The Maker...however, we cannot rightly align ourselves with someone claiming to be, quite literally, _touched_ by Andraste. It would be absolute heresy."

"I don't claim that privilege, as I have told you," the heretic argued. "I could care less about it. The only thing that matters is that I was touched by this" - she held up her left hand - "and it is the only thing so far that can stop the rifts and the Breach. So you can rest assured that I have no ideas about claiming divinity or whatever it is you hear people saying about me." Putting her hand down, a flash of concern rippled through her features. "Speaking of what people say...I was very concerned when I heard that the Chantry was thinking of hiring mercenaries to guard the Cathedral. Isn't that right, Josephine?"

For the first time since the false Herald began speaking, the Inquisition's ambassador made her opinions known. "It is a very worrying prospect, indeed. It reminds us all of how selfish Lord Seeker Lucius was to withdraw his support, leaving you all to not only worry about the state of the world, but of your own safety as well."

So they heard that little piece of news. Wonderful. Mother Hevara sighed, realizing now how prophetic her words had been. _It is out of our hands now...We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come._ "And what is it that you are suggesting?" she asked at last, not knowing whether to be interested or affronted. Meanwhile, their tea sat before them, cold.

"We have brought with us a small troop of soldiers," Lady Josephine replied. "It was not our first intention, but if the Chantry would give us the honor, then we would be more than happy to leave them behind, and they, of course, even happier to serve."

"And once we send word to our Commander, a proper regiment can be sent over," the heretic added, eyes shining optimistically. If one was not careful, one could even say they were filled with goodwill.

"We ask for nothing in return; we only wish to rest assured in the safety of the Chantry."

"Don't you agree, Revered Mothers?" Brown, hopeful eyes assailed the three of them, as inquisitive and guiltless as a young child in spring.

_It is out of our hands now; we shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come -_

So Mother Hevara thought.

* * *

 

"Perfect!" Josephine cheered once they were in the privacy of their coach. "You have done well today, Lady Ahnnie!"

Ahnnie blushed, starting a bit when the coach jolted to life, but then relaxed serenly into its comfy upholstery a moment later. "I couldn't have done it without you, Josephine. And wow! The difference that it made, when you thought of all those things to say-" Things that were, refreshingly enough, also aligned with her thoughts.

"What did I tell you?" Josephine asked, a mischeivous twinkle in her eye. "Lady Cassandra is a stalwart protector, but when it comes to the nuances of diplomacy..."

"...you are better suited for giving me advice," Ahnnie finished, smiling widely.

The gold-ruffled ambassador laughed, a pleasant tinkling like a merry bell's.

Her mirth was contagious, and Ahnnie felt her own optimism swell. She did not expect this audience with the Chantry Mothers - not so soon, anyway - but Josephine leaped at the chance when the mercenary rumor started circling about the city. A rumor that reached their ears thanks, perhaps, to a certain Friend of Red Jenny they had made on the first night of their arrival..."But do you think the Chantry will accept our soldiers?" she asked.

"Even if they do not, we have made quite the impression on them," Josephine mused. "But I think that they will. Mercenaries, depending on one's haggling skills, can be notorious purse-bleeders. And what would it signal to everyone else in the world, but that the capital of the Chantry is desperate? No, they will accept...you will see."

The coach took some time to fully ride out of the wide Cathedral courtyard, and even longer after that to find its way onto the main road, but once the course was set the city whizzed past them in a luxurious, colorful blur. In around a quarter to the next hour, they were deposited on the doorstep of the plain but sprightly _L'auberge de Licorne._ Ahnnie opened the door to her side, slipping out, and Josephine did likewise. The ambassador only stopped to pay the driver before following the girl up to the inn's door.

When they came inside, they found the innkeeper's wife bestowing chirping flattery upon a smartly dressed man, who was enduring her compliments with admirable patience. He wore an intricate mask made of slightly cheaper material, denoting his position as a servant to nobility, and his livery uniform was crisp and handsome. At the sight of the two young women, he stirred in their direction, and when he turned his head to fully reveal his mask's patterns, Josephine's eyes widened a moment in awe.

"What is it?" Ahnnie asked.

But the ambassador was not able to answer her question in time. The man strode forward, cleared his throat, and promptly addressed her: "You are the Herald of Andraste, are you not?"

Ahnnie watched him curiously. "People call me that, yes."

"I have an invitation for you from the First Enchanter of Montsimmard, also Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais, the Madame Vivienne. She wishes you to attend her salon at the chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain, and to consider her humble offer of hospitality. Should you accept, I have orders to pay the remaining balance of your stay at this esteemed inn and arrange the delivery of your belongings, along with that of your retinue, to the chateau."

Ahnnie blinked, overwhelmed by the suddenness of the grand invitations; also, she was not versed enough in the Orlesian court to understand their true significance. But Josephine was.

"If it is not too much trouble, we would be honored to accept," the ambassador replied smoothly, the satisfaction showing in her voice.

Ahnnie looked confusedly at Josephine, but neither ambassador nor well-dressed servant seemed to notice her. "Very well," the man said, his lower face alight with a smile. "I shall get to it straight away."

When he returned to the innkeeper's wife, this time willingly engaging in business arrangements, her portly husband became interested as well and ambled over to take part in the proceedings. Both proprietors of _L'auberge de Licorne_ readily accepted the messenger's offer, faces shining in delight at the amount he proposed to pay. While they were thus occupied, Ahnnie turned to Josephine again, eager for an explanation.

The ambassador beamed at her, clearly on cloud nine. "This day could not have gotten any better, for we have caught the attention of Madame Vivienne - Court Enchanter to the _Empress_ of Orlais!"

* * *

 

The next few moments went by in a dizzying blur. Bags were packed, rooms turned out, scoured, checked, double-checked, and their former inhabitants ushered into the lobby or immediate area around the inn to await carriages to take them to the Chateau de Ghislain. Cassandra was displeased with the unexpected nature of the arrangements, but trusted Josephine's judgement in accepting the invitation nonetheless.

Ahnnie stood by Blackwall and Solas as these developments unfolded around them. They were crammed amongst their bags and soldiers, although Solas was lucky enough to claim a chair for himself.

"How the tides of fortune have turned," Solas remarked as he looked about the room.

Blackwall grunted, seemingly indifferent to the whole affair.

Ahnnie herself confessed a certain excitement upon learning the importance of their new host. "She's a mage, too," she said, looking at Solas. "What do you think about that?"

He gave her a curious look. "Am I supposed to feel pleased?"

She shrugged, saying nothing but returning his look with an equal one of her own.

"We shall see," Solas then chuckled, patting her on the arm.

The carriages arrived a while later, pulling up against the curb in front of the inn. To anyone watching, they were a stark contrast between the building they parked next to, gilded wealth beside homely quaintness. Ahnnie was certainly aware of the attention factor it gained in these parts, and felt embarrassed as she put her foot on the step to embark on the first of its brethren with her companions - but then her back prickled with that familiar sensation, and she whirled around on instinct to see what it was. It frustrated her more than a little that she saw nothing or no one in particular, yet felt as though someone was looking back at her. Drooping, sullen eyes were foremost in her mind, yet she could think of no reason why they should be so prominent.

With a shrug, she pulled herself into the carriage and chose the seat farthest from the door. Why think of fleeting shadows when there was something much more important to look forward to?

The drive to the Chateau de Ghislain took even longer than the one to the Grand Cathedral. If Ahnnie paid attention, she would have noticed that they were heading to the far north of the city. Of the five of them, only she and Josephine seemed the most excited about their new lodgings. Cassandra and Blackwall were nonchalant, while Solas's expression was cryptic, as always. As a result, their conversations were scattered and few, though they were quite interesting at times.

"I've wondered...how did you know to approach us, Solas?" Cassandra asked all of a sudden, drawing curious glances from the others in the carriage, Ahnnie especially. "The Breach opened, we were scrambling and barely had time to think... and there you were."

"I went to see the Breach for myself," Solas explained. "I did not know you would be there."

"You must not have been far away."

"I was not. I'd come to hear of the Conclave, but did not want to get close."

"Hmm." She sank back into her seat, her face thoughtful. "Lucky for us, then." Ahnnie couldn't tell whether that was sarcasm, teasing, or actual thought.

And then, at other times, Ahnnie noticed discreet looks passed between Blackwall and Josephine - fleeting glances and flitting smiles that even they themselves probably weren't aware of. Most of it was initiated by Blackwall, who she caught staring at Josephine several times, particularly when the carriage turned to let sunlight fall upon the ambassador, crowning her dark curls in a soft halo and setting her smooth bronze skin aglow.

It made Ahnnie grin, though of course she assumed nothing...yet.

Once they reached the Chateau, they were cordially welcomed by waiting servants and escorted through the lavish halls to their rooms. Josephine walked with Ahnnie, content to be shown to her room later. The others went their own ways, and Ahnnie wondered what the servants thought about Solas being in their party. Some of them, she had noticed, were elves as well. They would not look her straight in the eye, though she gave them friendly smiles, but perhaps they might feel more comfortable with Solas?

"And here is your room, my lady."

Her attention returned to the servant and the large door they stopped in front of. The servant pushed it open to reveal a spacious bedchamber, elegantly furnished. Each piece of furniture was art, and each piece of art, a fashion statement. If Ahnnie was not careful, she could almost fool herself into believing this was the bedroom of Queen Marie Antoinette. The large canopied bed in the center caught most of her attention, as did the rich, velvety carpet spread across the smooth marble floor. Once they were within the room, Josephine let out a tiny squeal of delight and flopped backwards onto the bed, sinking into its luxurious softness.

"I am not dreaming," the Inquisition ambassador giggled. "It is a bed - a real, feather bed!"

Ahnnie raised an eyebrow in amusement and went up to the bed, depositing her bag at its foot. She had insisted on carrying her luggage with her, since it was not cumbersome. "You sound as though you were forced to sleep on the floor or something."

Josephine sighed in content, and raised herself into a sitting position. "I do not mean to sound ungrateful, but it has been a dreadfully long time since I've seen something so comfortable."

"How do you manage at Haven, then?" Ahnnie laughed, settling herself onto the opposite edge of the bed. _She's right - it_ is _comfy._

Josephine shrugged. "One adjusts. I stay busy. It helps me to take my mind from our surroundings. And the cold. And the wildlife. And the lack of civilization for miles around..." She sighed. "Why anyone lived there before we found Andraste's ashes, I cannot imagine."

 _My only complaint? The lack of indoor plumbing._ It was discomfiting at first, learning how to live in a world without modernity, but she soon discovered that the trouble to trump all troubles was the complete lack of flush-able toilets. She could sleep in a cold room, provided there were enough blankets; she could camp out, wear a pair of clothes twice, even go a day or two without some form of bathing (although two days were her limit); but to degrade herself by squatting over the ground or a chamber pot and praying she didn't miss? She could do without that. And then she spotted a little brass pot sitting like a dainty toad in the corner of the room. _Ugh...I spoke too soon..._

Josephine got up from the bed and went over to the curtained windows. Gripping the elegant fabric carefully in her hands, she pushed them aside and let in a great stream of light. Ahnnie gasped in awe as an intricate set of gardens opened up through the glass, sprawling and green and carefully trimmed to create stimulating geometric shapes, encircling a pretty stone fountain. She was suddenly struck with the urge to walk along its white gravel path and to try out one of the mazes.

"Much better," Josephine remarked. "Now, let us see what clothes you have. You will want to look presentable for the salon."

Ahnnie grabbed her bag and opened it, depositing the garments on the bed beside her. "Are you sure I can go wearing my usual stuff? It might be too informal...Oh, I also have clothes I haven't laundered yet," she remarked, looking at the crumpled clothing at the bottom, separated from the clean ones by a single rag.

"I can take care of that for you, my lady," the servant offered, and Ahnnie then realized she hadn't yet left her spot in the doorway.

"Oh, thank you," she said, and got up to hand over the dirty clothes.

"Would you like a hot bath drawn for you?" the servant then asked.

Josephine perked up at this. "Yes, she would like one straight away," she answered for Ahnnie, so eager it was almost as if the bath was being drawn for her instead.

As much as Ahnnie did not want to seem like a rich lady ordering around a servant, she had to agree that a hot bath would be nice. In fact, she couldn't remember a time when she had a hot bath in Thedas; Haven was too frigid for any bath at all, forcing her to use the wet-and-wipe-down method, and the lakes of the Hinterlands were cold to the touch. A hot bath seemed like a long-forgotten fantasy.

 _I think I'm going to like it here,_ she thought.

* * *

 

"Lady Yiemen of America, representing the Inquisition."

Ahnnie paused in the doorway, listening with incredulity to her announced title, before continuing on her way into the gilt vestibule. She did her best to stifle a laugh and pretended to look about her with interest, gazing appreciatively at the fancy marble work and a tinkling fountain running along the sides of the double stairs leading to the second tier.

All around her a loose scattering of nobles gossiped over wine cups and hors d'oeuvres, doll-like in their masks and dress. Orlesian fashion seemed to her a curious mix of French renaissance and revolutionary styles, with their own unique influence such as the elongated bodice on the dresses and the peculiar off-shoulder coats that some men wore. In contrast, she herself was wearing a regular tunic and breeches, but with some added flair that Lady Josephine took the liberty of arranging.

A dark half-cloak was clasped around her neck and swept dramatically over a shoulder. Using the longest tunic in her possession, Josephine flared its sleeves and belted it directly at the waist to emphasize her figure, and then tucked the breeches as far as she could into freshly polished boots to produce the least amount of folds. Last but not least, the ambassador braided the full length of her black hair as soon as it was dried, loosening it a bit near the top before tossing it carelessly over a shoulder.

"The noble adventurer," Josephine had called the look when she stepped back to admire her handiwork. The glaive-guisarme was strapped to her back as a finishing touch, little more than an overly sized trinket to show off at the salon since no fighting would be expected (or allowed, for that matter). Besides, it was Orlesian in concept, which Josephine was sure would please more than a few guests.

Thus it came as no surprise to Ahnnie that she stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the Orlesian nobility. The announcer didn't even need to call out her peculiar epithet. If no one noticed her upon stepping in, they would be sure to notice her after a while of standing in the middle of the vestibule.

A servant glided by, bearing a tray of the little hor d'oeuvres. He stopped inquisitively at her side, confusing her at first, until she finally understood and chanced a small helping, plopping the treat into her mouth. A buttery pastry crust exploded on her tongue, spilling out the deliciously sweet and savoury filling within. Another servant followed suit, offering her a glass of an effervescent drink, but she declined; she did not wish to get drunk in this setting.

When the servant was gone, two nobles approached and greeted her cordially. "What a pleasure to meet you, my lady," the first of them, a nobleman, said. "Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome."

Ahnnie tried not to let the surprise at their friendliness show on her face. She had been so used to hostile receptions from the Orlesians, that she half-expected them to insult her. "Likewise," she returned with a small bow of her head, as Josephine taught. "May I have the honor of knowing whose esteemed company I am in?"

The nobleman smiled, clearly pleased by her manners. "Comte and Comtesse Antoine and Sabine de Sauvageau. And you must be Yiemen de America? Did I pronounce it correctly?"

His accent on her name and the word 'America' was comical. She held in her breath, not daring to show any mirth, not even a smile. "Yes," she replied a moment later, still keeping some of the breath down in her throat. Much to her misfortune, her nickname would not be appropriate here.

Comte Antoine nodded pleasantly. "So, you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?"

"Are you here on business?" Comtesse Sabine added, her airy voice light and curious. "I have heard the most curious tales of you; I cannot imagine half of them are true."

Ahnnie smiled at them. "I can't imagine it either, since most of them are exaggerations. And I gue - _ahem_ \- suppose that I'm here on business, of a sort. But, if I may ask...who is Madame de Fer? I only know that I was invited here by a Madame Vivienne."

"'Madame de Fer' is a...fond nickname the court has given Madame Vivienne," Antoine explained.

"I've heard she finds it amusing," Sabine remarked.

 _Madame de Fer...what does it mean?_ Ahnnie was tempted to ask, but wasn't sure it would be a Game-savvy move to do so. Instead, she nodded along to what they told her, as though she understood. "What of Duke Bastien? I've heard very little of him, to be honest, and this is his home."

"He hasn't been seen much at court lately," Sabine admitted.

"His business with the Council of Heralds often takes him from home for long periods," Antoine added. "It can't be good for a man of his years."

"And of course, there's the civil war. Bastien probably wishes to distance himself from the actions of his one-time son-in-law."

Ahnnie had heard a little bit about the civil war from Josephine. Something about a conflict between Empress Celene and a Grand Duke Gaspard for power. She only hoped her scant knowledge was enough to converse with the de Sauvageau's, and anyone else who might come.

"Tearing up the Dales in a foolish bid for power? It will end in disgrace for Gaspard. Everyone knows it." Comte Antoine was on the royalist side, then.

Sabine nodded in assent, but was quick to change the subject. "Let us not think of the civil war now. Tell us more about yourself, oh, and your stories - surely you must have several of your own?"

"A few memories made with the glaive, perhaps," Antoine suggested, nodding appreciatively at the weapon.

"You'd be disappointed," Ahnnie demurred with a light chuckle. "They're not as interesting as the ones you've heard. Some of those storytellers _might_ have gotten a little carried away."

"But only for the best effect," Sabine pointed out. "After all, your world and the Inquisition are ripe subjects for wild tales."

 _Ah...so I'll have to do some world-talk today._ She could already foresee a sore jaw awaiting her at the end of the evening. _Nobles and their curiosity,_ she inwardly sighed, but to the Comte and Comtesse she presented an amiable expression. "Well, to start off, I-"

"The Inquisition! What a load of pig shit."

The contemptuous remark emanated from a man in a feathered mask descending the stairs behind them. "Washed-up sisters and crazed Seekers?" he spat as he came off the last step. "No one can take them seriously." He glided arrogantly past Ahnnie to pace about the room, raising the volume of his voice to ensure he was heard by all within earshot. "Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of _political outcasts_ to grab power."

Great. Her first public challenge while alone. _Stay calm_ , she told herself. _You can do this._ Since it was a jab about the Inquisition being power hungry, a familiar one she'd dealt with just that morning, Ahnnie returned as evenly as she could, "The Inquisition is only working to restore peace."

"Here comes the Otherworlder," Feather Mask taunted, "restoring peace with an army!"

"Our aim is defense, not invasion," Ahnnie continued, recalling Blackwall's words to her and adjusting them to fit the occasion.

Feather Mask smirked at her response and walked up to her, coming in so close he was suddenly breaching her personal space. She fought the urge to back up and looked confusedly into his mask, as if to question his intentions. The difference in their height was a palpable disparity. As she craned back her neck to look up at him, she could see faint stubble peppering the length of his jaw, and from behind his head, the gleam of an intricate rapier handle resting at his back.

"We know what your 'Inquisition' truly is," he murmured personally to her. Then, speaking louder, " _If_ you were a woman of honor, you'd step outside and answer the charges."

She was clueless as to what he meant until he made a backward reach for his rapier's hilt. _A duel!_ Godammit, he was challenging her to a duel! Josephine never told her anything about fighting duels!

Just as Feather Mask's rapier was beginning to leave its scabbard, a flash of white light suddenly paralyzed him, trapping his arm in a brace of ice around his neck. He gasped and sputtered in shock, the ice creeping up as far as his bottom lip.

A rich, chocolatey voice admonished him from above. "My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house...to _my_ guests."

Everyone turned at the sound of the voice. A cloth of silver queen appeared, crowned by a bold headdress that twined above her head in two twirling points. She sashayed down the steps, her costume glittering in the light like fresh winter's ice. "You know such rudeness is...intolerable," she purred, her tone displeased. And yet it carried a certain satisfaction, like a predator toying with its catch.

"Ah, Madame Vivienne," the Marquis shuddered, "I humbly beg your pardon!"

"You should," she agreed. She finally came round to him and peered at his face through her silver mask. "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?" the Madame sighed, and turned to face Ahnnie. "My lady, you're the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?"

Ahnnie regarded the regal figure before her. Surprisingly enough, Madame Vivienne's accent was not Orlesian. It was more Fereldan-like, but on the cultured and delicate side, like Evelyn's. On an unrelated note, her headdress reminded Ahnnie of a silvery Maleficent. Then she looked at the frozen Marquis, and immediately balked at the idea of deciding his fate. "It's all right," she assured the Madame. "It was just a few harsh words. Please, let him go."

Madame Vivienne nodded and turned back to her prisoner. But she did not release him immediately, taking the time instead to cup his frozen cheek. "Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog-lord..." Then the ice disappeared with a snap of her fingers. The Marquis' arm dropped back to his side, and he lifted it back up only to cover his mouth as he coughed.

But she was not done with him. Though he no longer was locked in her magic's embrace, Madame Vivienne continued to attack him with the other weapons in her arsenal. "And all dressed up in your aunt Solange's doublet. Didn't she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning...and you're still here. Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade could put an end to the misery of your failure?"

The Marquis looked down, cowed. Sensing that his presence was no longer welcome at the salon, he wordlessly headed for the door, taking his rapier and tattered dignity with him.

"Run along, my dear," Madame Vivienne mocked with a little shooing gesture at his back. "Do give my regards to your aunt."

Ahnnie suddenly found herself feeling sorry for the Marquis. Looking at the nobles around her, though, she could see they didn't feel the same. At first glance, they appeared to have no reaction, but if she listened closely she could hear amused murmurs and a derisive chuckle here and there. An uncomfortable feeling swirled in her belly as she took this all in. _The Grand Game is brutal,_ she thought in distaste.

"I'm delighted you could attend this little gathering," Madame Vivienne said once the Marquis was gone, drawing Ahnnie's attention back on her. "I've _so_ wanted to meet you. Come," she gestured, drawing the girl aside.

* * *

 

They stood by an open window in a lonely corner of the vestibule, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in from outside. It opened out to the same gardens Ahnnie had seen from the window in her room, just at a different angle. She breathed in the cool night air, letting it fill her lungs with the fresh scent of the gardens. It gave her some courage as she turned back to face Vivienne, wondering for what purpose the Enchanter sought to isolate her from the rest of the salon.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Madame Vivienne began. "I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."

Ahnnie did her best to muster a sincere smile. She already knew her host's identity and titles, but listened to her as a matter of custom. "Charmed, Madame Vivienne."

"Ah, but I didn't invite you to the Chateau for pleasantries."

Ahnnie didn't think that was the bulk of the salon, either. After watching her shred the Marquis' dignity into pieces, Madame Vivienne turned out to be much too crafty to extend an invitation to a controversial figure just for fun.

"You are already aware of the current state of the Chantry," Vivienne went on. "Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages in Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause."

"Last loyal mages?" Ahnnie echoed, puzzled by her new claim.

"To the people of Thedas, of course. We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any efforts to restore such order."

"As in, the Circles?"

"Of course," Vivienne nodded, her dark eyes purposeful. "Where else can mages safely learn to master their talents? We need an institution to protect and nurture magic. Maker knows, magic will find neither on its own."

 _She's not going to like Solas, then,_ Ahnnie thought in dismay. Hopefully, she would understand his presence in the Inquisition. And hopefully, Solas would understand Madame Vivienne's new membership, for the Inquisition would need allies as powerful and influential as she was. Such an alliance was heavily encouraged by Josephine, who briefed her on it while they were still getting ready. "She is well-versed in the politics of the Orlesian Empire," the ambassador had explained. "She knows every member of the Imperial Court personally. She has all the resources remaining to the Circle at her disposal, and she is a mage of no small talent. She will be most beneficial to the Inquisition; do not let the chance to ally with her slip away, should it arise!"

"That is very kind of you," Ahnnie thanked her, Josephine's words still ringing in her mind. "So, you have no problems with the Chantry not sanctioning the Inquisition...?"

"The Chantry is leaderless," Vivienne interjected. "They're in no position to officially sanction anything."

"You're not worried it might negatively affect you?"

She simply smiled at Ahnnie. "My dear, if there is one virtue the Chant of Light teaches us, it is forgiveness. Once the Inquisition has sealed the Breach, I'm sure the new Divine will not care in the slightest about official permission. Even so, I decide my own fate; I won't wait quietly for destruction."

That was a quality Ahnnie had to admit was particularly encouraging in a player of the Grand Game. "In that case, the Inquisition would gladly welcome support from someone in the Imperial Palace," she said, already imagining Josephine's happy reaction.

"Ordinarily, I would be happy to serve as liaison to the court," said Vivienne, "but these are not ordinary times. It is now the duty of every mage to work toward sealing the Breach, and so I would join the Inquisition on the field of battle."

Ahnnie blinked. She had not been expecting that. A moment later, however, her face warmed into a smile that was now truly sincere. "We would be even happier to have you beside us." For all the cold calculation Vivienne seemed to be composed of earlier, Ahnnie found herself liking the Enchanter's directness. God knows she herself would have gone insane in a culture as cunning as the Orlesian's.

Madame Vivienne was greatly pleased with this answer, and it came through in her voice. "Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that." With a hand of invitation, she beckoned Ahnnie back in the direction of the nobility. "Come, let us return to the salon - my guests would be most happy to hear more about America. I'm afraid the Chantry has only given us unsavory descriptions. You must come set the record straight."

"Of course, Madame Vivienne."


	7. An Unexpected Invite

Ahnnie was invited the next morning to breakfast with the Madame. A servant woke her at the precise chiming of the eighth bell and led her down to a fashionable parlor room. There, the Madame sat waiting at a small table, stirring her hot drink with a dainty little spoon.

"Good morning, my dear," Madame Vivienne purred as she entered. "I trust you've had a good night's rest?"

The servant bowed before leaving, and Ahnnie walked up accordingly to the empty chair in front of Vivienne. "A very good one, thank you," she smiled as she sat down.

Vivienne nodded and brought the cup to her lips for a little sip. Finding it still lacking, she plopped a sugar cube into the drink and continued stirring. "What a curious thing you've done with your hair," she remarked a moment later.

Ahnnie held up a lock of wavy black hair. "Oh, I kept the braid on when I went to bed," she explained, then dropped the lock back down. "I used to do it before, occasionally. It's been a while since the last time..."

"It looks nice." Vivienne sipped her drink again, and this time found it satisfactory. "What it lacks is the proper attire to make it shine. I know a woman in the city, a fabulous seamstress; she can work wonders for your wardrobe."

"Thank you, Madame Vivienne. I will keep that in mind."

The Enchanter snapped her fingers after putting down her stirring spoon. "You must be thirsty. What would you like to start your day with, my dear?" On cue, a servant who had been standing sentinel behind her immediately came forward. "Tea? Chocolate? Coffee?"

Ahnnie perked up. "Did you say, 'coffee'?" she echoed.

"Indeed, I did. The finest grounds from Antiva."

Ahnnie fought the urge to shout with joy. _Coffee! Thedas has_ coffee _! Today's my lucky day!_ "I'll take coffee, please," she answered readily. "With steamed milk, if it's not too much trouble." She made a mental note for later to ask if sweet condensed milk was a thing yet. She missed the taste of cà phê sữa đá. _Us Vietnamese need our coffee - it's in our blood._

"Of course not, my dear. It never is." Vivienne then turned to the servant and flicked him off, watching as he bowed and strode out of the room to fulfill the order.

He returned a moment later with the much desired coffee, settling it down before a delighted Ahnnie. Following close behind, another servant brought in breakfast: two plates of crêpes filled with cream and fresh berries, accompanied by twin saucers of a chocolate sauce.

Vivienne drizzled a little of the sauce in a criss-cross pattern over her crêpes before cutting into them daintily with her fork. When she looked up again, she noticed Ahnnie making a scrunched-up face upon sampling her coffee. "Does it need some sugar?" Vivienne asked, gesturing towards the sugar cubes.

Ahnnie shook her head. "I prefer it as-is in the morning," she explained. "It was just a little hot, and I drank too fast."

"Do be careful."

She kept that advice in mind as she cut into her crêpes, dousing a bit of the cold cream onto her scalded tongue. Next, she speared a berry with the fork and dipped it lightly into the sauce. When she put it in her mouth a moment later, she realized just how much she missed tasting such sweet flavors. Eager to be reacquainted with them, she cut a piece of crêpe and berry and dipped into the sauce again, munching happily away with careful sips of coffee between intervals.

"They were most charming, the stories you told last night," Vivienne said after a while. "Earth sounds like a very curious place."

Ahnnie waited till she finished chewing before replying. "It was my pleasure, Madame. I'm glad I could entertain with my experiences." She tilted her head in thought. "It's interesting, but they were just normal things to me back home. Here though, they're such novelties."

"I'm sure we could say the same of Thedas to people of your world."

"That's true," she conceded. "They do like to write stories about worlds like Thedas. They call it the 'fantasy' genre."

Vivienne laughed. "Fantasy! Why, is it because of the magic?"

"Yes." At this, the Madame laughed some more.

Her reaction was typical of the other Orlesians who had listened to Ahnnie the previous evening. For people who distrusted the unrestrained use of magic, they became awfully proud of it when they learned of its absence on Earth. Then upon hearing of the scientific and technological advances, they wondered in a fascinated vein whether or not it might be due to a subtle form of magic the Earthlings couldn't comprehend? As for America, the land in which the Otherworlder lived, they were glad to discover it was not the dimension of demons the Chantry made it out to be, but found it strange that its people chose who governed them rather than submit to a monarchy, 'as was only right'.

"Why, they are even more barbarous than the Fereldans," Comtesse Sabine had remarked. "At least _their_ nobles preside over the Landsmeet; can you imagine a whole people choosing who sits on the throne, regardless of station or blood, with the power to overthrow that ruler whenever it so suits them?"

"Pure anarchy!" another noble had agreed.

"It's an Oval Office, not a throne," Ahnnie had to correct them. "There's a Congress, Senate, and House of Representatives sharing power with the President, and there's also a trial before he gets impeached, if it comes to that."

But the Orlesians would not be convinced; they thought the democratic system inferior to their own, and when Ahnnie explained the three other houses of power as checks-and-balances to one another, the only thing the were convinced of was America's lawlessness. They seemed to think that of any Earthen country with a history of revolution and independence; she was unsurprised to hear the same things said of Vietnam breaking away from French colonial rule and decided not to tell them about the French Revolution. Rather than taking offense, she was amused by their reactions, more interested in the sociological factor that played into their opinions than any concern over her own.

The Madame herself made many of her opinions known that night, most of them aligning with the general consensus of centralized rule, others more favorably aligned with the Americans', such as the civil and women's rights. _And yet_ _, no complete freedoms for the mages,_ Ahnnie noticed, though she kept it to herself.

But besides that, who _exactly_ was Vivienne? What did being a Court Enchanter mean, and why did Duke Bastien allow her the liberty to throw salons in his home? That last question had been bugging her since the previous evening. The Chateau de Ghislain was the Duke's, but Vivienne had called it 'my house' when chiding the Marquis. It was confusing.

"Madame Vivienne, if you don't mind, I would like to ask you more about yourself," Ahnnie began. "I spoke a lot about myself at the salon, but I wasn't able to get to know you well. I find that very rude of me, especially towards my most gracious host," she added for good measure.

The Madame smiled wryly. "No need to strain yourself, my dear. There are no other nobles present; you may pause the Game to speak plainly with me."

Ahnnie smiled, though she still felt somewhat wary. "I couldn't help noticing your accent's not Orlesian. Where, exactly, are you from?"

"I am from the Circle, my dear," Vivienne replied. "One's country of origin rarely matters there. But if you must know, I was born in Wycome in the Free Marches. I was sent to the Ostwick Circle, but I transferred to Montsimmard while still an apprentice."

The Ostwick Circle! "I have a friend in the Ostwick Circle," Ahnnie beamed.

"Indeed?"

"Yes," Ahnnie nodded, but caught herself before she could reveal Evelyn's name, remembering only at the last minute that the mage was not yet free to openly associate with her. "She's a very nice mage," she said instead. "How did you wind up at court, then?" Hopefully, this change in subject was sufficient to keep the Madame from probing further.

"Nobody 'winds up' at court, my dear," Vivienne said in an amused tone. "It takes a great deal of effort to arrive there. I caught the eye of Duke Bastien de Ghislain, an advantageous connection that opened many doors. When the position of Enchanter to the Imperial Court became vacant, I was able to secure it."

"Ah, so you're Duke Bastien's wife?" _That would make sense_...

Madame Vivienne laughed, surprising her. "Of course not, my dear! Don't be ridiculous. Marriage is the business of alliance and inheritance. I'm Bastien's mistress."

Ahnnie blushed, completely taken aback. "O-oh," she stuttered, "so...is there a Duchess de Ghislain?"

"There _was_. Duchess Nicoline passed away from a fever a few years ago, the poor dear."

"Was she...jealous of you?"

"On the contrary, we got along quite well. Duchess Nicoline and I used to host musical salons together. She was a great patron of the arts." Madame Vivienne spoke so casually, she made being friends with the spouse of one's lover sound like an everyday affair.

"I see," Ahnnie nodded. _Shit would have hit the fan if they were Vietnamese,_ she thought, remembering some choice incidents. Or of any other Earthen culture that practiced monogamy, for that matter - not that this was a norm for Orlesian culture, either. It was refreshing to hear the Duchess being so graceful about it, but...was she ever hurt? Didn't she love the Duke? And then... _No way, did she have affairs of her own?_ It wouldn't be un-Orlesian to do so. Shaking that thought away, Ahnnie went on to her next point of curiosity. "So, um, what are a Court Enchanter's duties?"

The Madame took a sip of her drink before answering. "I am tasked with providing assistance to the Empress on arcane matters. Most of my predecessors restricted this to lighting lamps and doing parlor tricks; in such troubled times as these, however, I provide political advice to Her Majesty on the subject of the mage rebellion."

"It must be busy work."

"It is," Madame Vivienne agreed.

Then it occurred to her..."Will Her Majesty object to your absence from the Palace?"

Vivienne sighed. "To be fair, my dear, she has her hands tied with the civil war as of the moment. She has not consulted me on the mages in a while. I wouldn't be offering to assist the Inquisition if I were still required at the Imperial Palace, so you needn't worry about that."

Ahnnie sat back and digested this information with a long, appreciative sip at her coffee. "I must seem so nosy, asking all these questions," she teased.

"Oh, no, darling, it was my pleasure to answer them."

"If you don't mind, I just have one last one."

"Go ahead."

"What does 'Madame de Fer' mean?"

Vivienne gave her an amused smile as she speared a berry on her plate. "'Lady of Iron'."

* * *

 

" _Đời tôi cô đơn nên yêu ai cũng không duyên. Đời tôi cô đơn nên yêu ai cũng không thành_..."

Ahnnie stopped singing when she heard movement behind her. She froze, remembering that strange prickling of being watched - but turned around a moment later to see none other than Solas strolling down the gravel path. Relief flooded her instantly, followed by embarrassment. She turned back down her line of travel to meet up with him, smiling cheerily as they came face to face.

"It's a pretty cool garden, huh?" Ahnnie remarked, looking at the greenery around them.

"It feels quite warm to me," Solas interjected.

"Oh no, I meant 'cool' as in, uh..." She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to think of an appropriate synonym. "'Impressive', 'great'...it's an Earth thing," she explained. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"It is all right, da'len," Solas chuckled, ruffling her head.

A warm and fuzzy feeling tickled her cheeks at his friendly touch. It then struck her that many of her companions tended to treat her like a child, as though she were not the young woman her age dictated her to be. Cassandra, for one, would not let her stay up on watch or fight in the Hinterlands, Josephine kept stressing rules and points of importance as if she were forgetful, Varric enjoyed teasing her, Blackwall tried to keep her out of trouble, and Solas called her _da'len_. _Do I really look_ that _young?_ she wondered, touching a hand to her cheek. _Or, no...it's how I act..._ which, in turn, reinforced her physical appearance. But this time, rather than feeling shame, she felt warmed.

 _I'd forgotten how it feels like to be a kid,_ she thought. _To have people who cared like that..._ Beaming up at Solas, she asked him when he drew his hand away, "Do you want to try a maze with me? I was heading for one just now."

"A maze, hm? Why not?"

They headed for the nearest one and entered its leafy corridor without hesitance. It was no surprise to her that she felt lost after a few minutes, but she didn't mind. She was doing this for fun, and if it was anything like the mazes she'd read about on Earth, then they would eventually be able to solve it.

"I heard that as long as you keep your hand on the right wall, it'll lead you to the exit." Her fingers brushed the hedge in response, tickling against the immaculately trimmed leaves.

"Hedge mazes are usually built for their novelty," Solas remarked. "They might be long, but they will never be impossible. There isn't any point in needlessly trapping one's guests, after all."

"True." It was still fun, though. She closed her eyes, seeing in her mind's eye the same maze around them but without hedges for walls... _Cornfield mazes, right before Halloween..._ But the smell around her was that of fresh greenery and spring, not crisp apples and cinnamon, which dissipated the vision a moment later. She opened her eyes again to find herself almost within kissing distance of a green dead end. Alarmed, she whirled back around and saw Solas standing several feet away with a smile on his face. "Why didn't you tell me?" she admonished him playfully as she rushed back.

"The guy from The Shining died lost in a maze, though," she said after a while, thinking aloud.

"Hm?" Solas asked.

"A horror movie," she explained.

"...I see."

They reached the maze's center after a while, a circular clearing with a little gazebo in the middle. The elf and girl decided to take a break there and sat down on the white stone benches, the domed roof of the gazebo forming a circle of cool shade upon them.

"Horror movies often grossly exaggerate," Solas suddenly said, breaking the peaceful silence. "I'm not surprised many of their characters die; no one in their right mind would make the same mistakes as they do."

Ahnnie raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why, did you watch one?"

"In the Fade, yes."

What! A movie, in the Fade? Ahnnie leaned in closer, suddenly curious. "How did you do that? Was it in my dreams? Wait...did you enter one of my dreams?" she asked accusingly.

"No, I didn't have to do that," he denied. " _You_ brought remnants of your world with you. While it is true that your memories played a part, your very presence brought some of Earth's essence closer to Thedas."

Her face beamed with excitement. _That means home might not be so far away after all!_ But she didn't voice this, not in light of what she was still supposed to do. So she asked instead, "When did you notice this? What else did you see? Oh my god, it's been ages since I've seen a movie! Can I come along too?"

Solas gave her a sly smile in return. "Unfortunately, da'len, to be able to journey farther into the Fade, one must have a better knowledge of magic. Which, if I remember correctly, you rejected to acquiring."

 _Burn._ "Well, I'd have you with me, right hahren?" she asked anyway.

"Do I look like I wish to rescue a helpless child whenever she falls into trouble?" he jested.

"You've done it before. Why not again?" All jokes aside, Ahnnie would not enter the Fade if Solas thought her incapable. She was not keen on honing her mana either, not after what happened. But on the topic of magic, a nagging question resurfaced in her mind. She tapped an index finger against the stone bench as she thought of how to broach the subject. "Say, Solas," she slowly began, "what do you think of our host?"

The elf settled his staff against the bench beside him. "Nothing of significance," he answered casually.

She looked at him. "Really?"

"Madame Vivienne is an advantageous ally - that is enough to content me."

 _I wonder if he knows..._ Ahnnie sighed, looking down on the bench where her hand rested. "I like how she's different from most Orlesians. Well, most Orlesians I've met anyway. Of course, she's still a bit snooty, but that's because of how she lives, right? She told me she's from the Montsimmard Circle, and..."

"If you're trying to make me feel better about her views on the mages, you may rest assured that I feel nothing from them."

She blushed. "So...you know already?"

"You were being very obvious, da'len," Solas mused. "It wasn't difficult to deduce what you were going to say. But thank you, anyway, for being concerned."

"You're welcome, I guess..." _Dang, I've got to stop worrying so much! I'm making mountains out of molehills._ "You're not being treated unfairly, though?" she asked, still unable to shake some of it off. "Everything's cool - er, okay?"

"Everything is... _cool_ ," he said, smiling amusedly. "I would be sure to tell you if it were otherwise."

"Okay," she nodded. "It's just that...well, her being a mage and all, and in her position, too...I mean, 'Court Enchanter' was just a useless position until the Empress needed her help!"

"Not all mages think the same," Solas pointed out. "And so it is with templars. Opinions are rarely as cut-and-dried as we believe them to be."

"I know...I just don't want it to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm fine, I assure you. Come now, stop worrying - we still have a maze to solve."

They then got up from the benches and plunged back into the maze. As Ahnnie expected, they were able to find the exit, but not before running into a few more dead ends that were easily negotiable. While still in the maze, Solas talked of the other things he saw in the Fade, which took her mind off her anxieties. She was back to being careless once they exited the hedges, and wondered if it wouldn't hurt to bear with a little magic just to see those coveted traces of Earth?

_Maybe - I'll think about it._

* * *

 

He slinked about the stones, silent as a shadow, listening to the two men as they walked down the corridor. _Clank, clank, clank..._ their armor heralded their presence with every step, so loud and conspicuous in the dark emptiness.

"Did you hear of the Chantry?"

"What about it?"

"They accepted those Inquisition soldiers."

"Blast."

He stalked after them, watching their great backs going up and down, up and down, down the long stone corridor.

"The Lord Seeker's been so pissed ever since."

A derisive laugh. "What, does he suddenly care now?"

A shrug. "I'd care too, if someone showed me up. What'd people think, seeing something like that? You know?"

"If he cared so much, he wouldn't have...ah, Maker's balls. Nothing the Lord Seeker's done has made sense, since..."

"Since what? What're you trying to say?"

"Nothing. Forget what I just said."

_Clank, clank. Clank, clank._

"I wonder what he's going to do about it."

"Do what? He's ordered us out of Val Royeaux."

"But we're not gone yet."

"So you think..."

A meaningful silence.

"Yes. She's just a kid - maybe she can be influenced."

"I guess? But what sense does it make to..."

Another shrug. "I dunno. The Lord Seeker hasn't been himself lately. If he doesn't do that, Maker only knows what else he'll do."

He paused in his tracks. Her - they're speaking of her! The one whom people called "otherworlder", come to Thedas from a distant land beyond the Fade. He's seen her several times, out in the city. _What a beautiful city. Why does it have to be so cruel? Can't things be easy for once?_ Her apprehension, so palpable he could feel it within him. _What the hell? Who's following me? Is there someone following me?_ Careful observation, brown eyes piercing straight through him, only to fall away a moment later.

Maybe...if the big Seeker was going to do as the men said...maybe he would see her again? If that was so...

 _I must warn her,_ he thought, and slipped away.

* * *

 

Blade clashed against blade in a shout of ringing metal. The combatants jumped back briefly before rejoining to trade more blows, sparks flying between them. After a few more parries, their blades locked into a standstill, pushing indecisively against one another. Then they broke away, relaxing their stances upon the sharp clap of the Seeker.

"Very good," Cassandra nodded. "Now, one more time."

Ahnnie straightened up and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "Can't I have a break, Cassandra? Just one?"

"You're asking for a break now?" the Seeker asked. "That only proves you have been idle for too long. Go again."

 _Uuuuugggh,_ Ahnnie groaned, and readied her stance for another match with Blackwall.

"Seeker Cassandra is being cruel today," Josephine chuckled whilst looking over some papers in her hands.

"What do you expect?" the Seeker asked back. "Even I have not trained in a while. In fact, I will go against her in the next round. Just because we are far from Haven does not mean we can neglect our training."

Madame Vivienne picked up the glass of juice from the small table between her and Josephine, bringing it to her mouth for a sip. "How very true," the Enchanter mused. "I don't doubt that she has been taught well, but it is clear to see that she could benefit from more polishing."

 _I can hear you,_ Ahnnie thought as she blocked a swipe from Blackwall.

But the Madame had a point. Their time at the Chateau de Ghislain was leisurely and relaxing, like a long undue vacation, and threatened to soften the edge Cassandra had instilled in her. It was very close to living in the modern comfort that she had previously taken for granted; bathing was regular, food was plentiful, and most extraneous chores were done for her. She would also star in occasional salons, burdened by nothing more than how her clothes looked or what she had to say. Thus, it came as no surprise that she had become more complacent, more slack, and of course, a little more round.

Luckily for the Seeker (but perhaps not so luckily for Ahnnie), their time in Orlais was drawing to a close. With the Chantry having finally accepted their soldiers not less than two days ago, and the soldiers themselves now guarding the Grand Cathedral, there was no more of a reason to stick around in Val Royeaux. Arrangements had been made with a captain Vivienne was acquainted with and they would board the next ship for Jader within a few days.

While the combatants clashed, a servant arrived on the veranda bearing some mail on a silver tray. The Madame put down her drink to sort through the papers, mulling leisurely amongst the wax seals and titles while the swords danced in the foreground. She frowned upon coming to the next-to-last paper and looked up to hand it to Josephine. "My dear, this one is for you," she purred.

Lady Josephine looked up from her own papers to take the one from the Madame. The ambassador looked it over confusedly, pausing a moment upon recognizing the seal. With a tentative hand, she broke it and unfolded the letter.

A while later, Seeker Cassandra made her jolt with another sharp clap to end the training segment. "I'll grant you a five minute break now, and then I will go against you."

Ahnnie slapped her short sword back into its scabbard and made her way with Blackwall to the veranda's welcoming shade. "Only five minutes!" she mumbled to herself as she plopped down into a nearby chair.

Blackwall did the same, albeit in a less exhausted manner. He turned over to Josephine and gave her a polite smile. "Are you all right, my lady? You don't look so happy reading that letter."

Josephine struggled a moment to form words before letting out her breath in an anxious chuckle. "It is nothing," she assured him, but then remembered that it indeed _was_ something. "Except for...um, Lady Ahnnie?"

Ahnnie turned over in her chair. "Yes?" she panted.

"And Lady Cassandra, I suppose," Josephine added. "Lord Seeker Lucius has asked to speak with the Herald of Andraste at the Seeker Headquarters..."

"What?" Cassandra snapped, storming over to the ambassador. "When?"

"Any time before we leave, actually," Josephine clarified.

Ahnnie frowned. "I thought he and the templars left Val Royeaux?"

"Well, apparently, they're still here..."

"What does he want?" Cassandra asked, her sharp eyes glaring.

Josephine looked down at the letter again and sighed. "I do not know," she admitted. "If we go by the letter, he wants to work out negotiations, saying it doesn't have to be this way between the Inquisition and the templars."

The Seeker paced about the veranda in thought. "Perhaps he has changed his mind," she muttered, "though why would he be so malleable all of a sudden? First the withdrawal, now this..."

"But there is just one thing."

All eyes turned back to Josephine.

"He wants only a small group to accompany her, and when it comes down to the actual talking..." Her dark eyes wandered over to Ahnnie. "...he wants to do it with her...alone."

* * *

 

The carriage trotted amiably down the city streets, but to Ahnnie, the thing was going too damn fast.

"I'm sure it's nothing serious," Blackwall assured her. "Dignitaries often ask to speak with each other alone. Happens all the time."

"But I'm _not_ a dignitary," Ahnnie protested, a worried hand running through her hair. "I'm just...I don't know! A figurehead? A...what's it you call someone who has power only in name?"

"'Figurehead' is correct," Josephine said, "but let us not forget the power you _do_ hold." She pointed to the girl's left hand. "Because of that and what our mission is, your image is closely tied to the Inquisition. Therefore, it is no surprise that important figures may wish to speak to you on occasion. Now, I may not be an expert on military leaders, but I believe the Lord Seeker's request so soon after the Chantry's acceptance of our soldiers to be no small coincidence."

"That is not what Lord Seeker Lucius would do," Cassandra cut in.

"Would the Lord Seeker have returned to Val Royeaux to make a show of the templars' withdrawal?" Josephine countered.

Cassandra frowned, then shook her head.

Solas put a reassuring hand on Ahnnie's. "Do not worry. I will be close by."

The girl looked up and gave him a helpless smile. "You won't be allowed in their headquarters, though. No one will be allowed to enter with me. I'll be alone..." The realization crashed into and swept over her like a devastating wave. The only time she had ever talked to someone important in private was with Mother Giselle. _But this is Lord Seeker Lucius...the guy who wouldn't think twice about punching a helpless old woman..._ even if he wasn't the one to throw the punch, it still counted that he didn't care, for he would have reprimanded his man otherwise.

"Even so, I will be near," Solas interjected.

"Thanks," she said, even though she could see no use in his proximity if she was still going in alone.

"We will _all_ be close by," Cassandra reaffirmed. "I believe it will only be a moment's talk-"

"But what if I have to make an important decision?" she interrupted.

"Tell him you will think about it," Josephine said, "and discuss it with us afterward."

"Okay..."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, allowing the rhythm of the carriage to overtake them. After a while, Cassandra drew aside the fancy curtain to peer out the window. "We are here," she announced, much to Ahnnie's dismay.

The carriage swerved into the open gates of an imposing stone fortress, the banners of which were emblazoned with the Seeker emblem. Men in dark armor stood guardian at the gateposts, and when the carriage stopped within the courtyard, a small group led by the dark skinned templar from before greeted the five of them.

"Knight-Templar Derlin Barris, at your service," he saluted.

Cassandra nodded in acknowledgement. "Seeker Cassandra," she introduced with a similar gesture.

Ser Barris looked the party over, his eyes catching onto Solas almost immediately. "I am afraid the mage will not be allowed," he said with regret.

"Of course," Solas smiled wryly. "I will wait here with the carriage, then."

Ahnnie reached out a desperate hand for the elf. "But..."

"You'll be fine," he assured her, returning her hand to her side.

The templar frowned, but then turned his attention to the girl. "Come; I am to take you to the Lord Seeker's office."

"The rest of us will accompany her along the way," Cassandra stated, stepping in besides the frightened Ahnnie.

Ser Barris nodded. "Of course."

And so they set off across the courtyard for the fortress proper. Ahnnie looked back over her shoulder, watching Solas grow smaller and smaller behind her. He noticed her gaze and gave her a reassuring wave before she disappeared under a great stone arch, and subsequently through a large oaken door, and then the courtyard was shut away from her view.

The click of the latch was a small, inconsequential sound, but to Ahnnie it felt like a great weight upon her soul. The group strode forward under the lead of Ser Barris, the only souls walking the torchlit corridors of nothing but endless stone and occasional tapestry.

"So I see the templars have not yet left Val Royeaux?" Josephine inquired a moment later, breaking the silence. Her lilting voice echoed eerily against the walls, causing Ahnnie to draw in closer to Cassandra and Blackwall.

"The Lord Seeker has not yet given us his command," Ser Barris replied.

"Forgive me, but he seems to have taken great liberties with the Order," Cassandra remarked.

"He has taken command," said Ser Barris. "Permanently."

Cassandra frowned. "If he feels there is a holy mandate..."

"That is what the Lord Seeker claims, and our commanders parrot him." Ser Barris sighed. "If I may speak plainly with you - the Lord Seeker's actions make no sense. He promised to restore the Order's honor, then does all these contradictory things?" His voice hardened. "Templars should know their duty, even when held from it."

There was a fire in his words that Ahnnie knew was both dangerous for him and yet would not be easily suppressed. _So he has doubted, and has been persuaded..._ but what would happen then? What did he hope to come out of today's meeting? In fact, what should she aim for, and what did the Lord Seeker himself intend? It was all so confusing.

Ser Barris led them up a staircase, where they passed by two armed templars. The men took no notice of them, but something seemed a little...off, about them. Ahnnie frowned, not quite sure she was even being herself. She noticed Blackwall looking strangely at them as well, but...

"Here we are," Ser Barris announced. He had halted them in front of a door, and looked back uncertainly at Ahnnie. "Whatever you do...if you can convince the Lord Seeker...win him over, and every able-bodied knight will help the Inquisition seal the Breach."

She let out a steady exhalation to hide her nervousness. _So he thinks I'm here to make an alliance._ "I will try," she responded at length, smiling at Ser Barris. _But that's a lot to ask for._

Ser Barris nodded and rapped on the wood. "The Herald of Andraste, here to see you, sir."

There was a period of nerve wracking silence. Then, from behind the door: "Enter."

The templar turned the knob and twisted it open. From the tiny slit, Ahnnie could see a dark stone room, dimly lit with torches.

She turned back around to look at Cassandra, Josephine, and Blackwall. "I'll just be a moment," she said, as if this were only a small errand she had to run. "I'll see you later."

Blackwall nodded encouragingly. "We'll be waiting for you."

"Don't be too nervous," Josephine chimed in.

Cassandra said nothing, only giving her a purposeful look with her sharp eyes.

 _And in I go,_ Ahnnie thought as she turned around and wedged herself into the room. The door shut behind her with a soft click, separating her at last from her familiar companions.

The gloom took some time to get used to, but once her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a small anteroom of sorts leading to a bigger main one. She walked up to it and saw a subdued blaze crackling away in a hearth to her left, with a pair of chairs sitting before a desk directly ahead. In front of that desk, standing with his back to her, hands folded, was none other than Lord Seeker Lucius. She recognized him by his hair, dark and slick like a raven's pruned back.

He seemed not to have noticed her approach, so she cleared her throat. "Lord Seeker Lucius?"

She was most unnerved to find that he did not acknowledge her, continuing to stand like a silent statue by the desk.

"L-Lord Seeker?" she tried again.

Still, no response...

 _Okay, this is getting creepy._ Should she back out right now? It was starting to remind her of those dreaded horror movies. _I don't want to be one of the dumb characters,_ she thought, but then reprimanded herself. Perhaps he was just trying to throw her off her guard. Of course, he would want to gain whatever advantage over her early in the talk. She was just imagining things, letting her thoughts wander, getting too nervous...

She took a deep breath and slowly walked up to him. To keep her mind elsewhere, she focused on Josephine's points of initiation. "Ah, Lord Seeker Lucius," she said, speaking too loud for her own good, "what a pleasant surprise. I had not expected to meet you again so soon..."

When she was within speaking distance of him, the Lord Seeker chuckled.

"Lord Seeker?" she inquired.

He suddenly whirled around and grabbed her by the collar with both hands. She yelped in surprise, struggling against his iron grip as he dragged her close to his face. Hot breath puffed down her jaw and neck, so close their noses practically touched, and his dark eyes bore into hers maliciously.

"Wh-what are you doing!? Let me go!" she screamed, completely alarmed. "Cassandra! Blackwall!"

"No one can hear you now," he groused, and began pulling her along to every backward step he took.

"Stop! Stop it! I - I demand you!" But no matter how she yelled or kicked or clawed, the Lord Seeker would not relent.

Lord Seeker Lucius chuckled again. "At last!" he exclaimed, before the room suddenly disappeared around her in a bright flash of green light...

* * *

 

_...Where am I?  
_

Swirling mist floated around her, a grey veil of smoky uncertainty. Ahnnie whirled around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Just a moment ago, she was in the office of the Lord Seeker. But now...

She appeared to be in a snowy wasteland, with a low-lying mist hanging on the ground and nothing but a cold crescent moon to light her way. In the distance, a dark shape like a tower pierced the monotonous landscape, its only window glowing like a guiding beacon in a mysterious sea. With a shiver, she made for it, unable to think of doing anything else.

But just when she approached its stone staircase, a dark shape stalked forward from the mist. Ahnnie paused, backing up a step.

" **Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?** "

The mist parted to reveal a face she hadn't seen in a while. She paused, unable to believe who was standing before her eyes. "Maxwell?" she gasped, recognizing the handsome face of the youngest Trevelyan.

Maxwell smiled coldly. " **Everything tells me about you,** " he said. His voice suddenly took on a different quality, like that of two people talking at once. Ahnnie knew then that this wasn't Maxwell. Horror movie trivia told her otherwise.

"You're not Maxwell!" she cried. "You're - you're a demon!"

The demon chuckled and began to pace around her. " **Being you will be _so_ much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker. When I'm done, the Elder One will kill you and ascend. Then I will _be_ you.**"

 _I knew it! I knew something was wrong with the Lord Seeker!_ But she had no idea it was something of this magnitude. And now whatever it was wanted to take over her body? For...for an 'Elder One'? "'Elder One'?" she echoed. "Who or what is that?"

The faux Maxwell let out a laugh. " **He is between things. Mortal once, but no longer.** " Then he suddenly blinked into nothing, as though he had never been there in the first place.

Ahnnie whirled around, not quite able to believe he was completely gone. Her eyes darted here and there, trying futilely to spy irregular shapes in the mist.

" **Glory is coming** ," the demon rasped from behind her, and she jumped to face him. " **T** **he Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else: by dying in the right way.** "

"S-stop this!" she screamed, backing away from Maxwell - Maxwell, but not Maxwell. "Get away from me!" She turned tail and fled for the stairs, scared out of her wits. If only this were a horror movie; at least movies were false. But this was real, all too real -

" **I am not your toy!** " demon Maxwell cried after her. She shut her hands over her ears, but his voice still boomed into them. " **I am Envy, and I _will_ know you!**"

Her legs pumped up the steps as fast as she could get them and her hands scrambled for the latch. Once she was inside, she slammed the door behind her, locking and double-locking it with whatever mechanisms were available. Then she sank down to her knees, breathing heavily. _Oh my god...Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..._ "What the hell!?" she shouted to no one in particular. "Where am I, what is happening, what...what...?"

But perhaps she was glad there was no one to hear her; if they were anything like Maxwell, then she was better off alone.

 _Thud!_ The door suddenly shivered behind her from the force of a powerful blow. She jumped like a cat on fire and ran away from it, heading for the wooden stairs that beckoned to her as the only way out. It brought her to the top of the tower, a nondescript room of wood and stone that was devoid of any furniture. The only thing of note was a door set into the wall directly across from her, which she tentatively stepped towards.

"Wait."

Ahnnie froze, her body instinctively tensing. _No. No, he can't have followed me in here, he can't..._ The voice was different, a single male voice this time, gentle even, but there was every chance it was a piece of deception meant to delude her. She suddenly remembered the short sword at her hip and gripped its hilt, slowly withdrawing it as she turned around.

 _Nothing. No one's there._ Her heart hammered rapidly and she fought to calm it down, but to no avail. _This is so much_ worse _than a horror movie. I've got to get out of here._ With a shake of her head, she drew out her sword and turned back around to make for the door.

"Mirrors on mirrors on memories," the voice suddenly spoke again. "A face it can feel, but not fake."

Ahnnie whirled around again, but like before, there was no one - not a soul! She was all alone in this room, yet she could hear a voice...! "What the hell do you want from me!?" she demanded.

"I want to help. You, not Envy."

"Ha...! Ahahaha!" She turned and turned and turned until she made herself dizzy, but there was no one there. Nothing. "Very funny, Envy! That's your name, right? You get a kick out of scaring people like this?"

"I'm Cole," the voice protested.

"Y-yeah? And I'm the Queen of Sheba!" Her hands began to shake. She gripped them harder around the sword in an attempt to keep them steady. "So what the fuck is this place, huh? Since you're so willing to talk now?"

"We're inside you. Or I am. You're always inside you."

Ahnnie laughed again. Any more of this, and she might just lose her mind. "Oh, really? Well why don't you show yourself, Cole?" she spat as she spun about. "Or are you too scared to–" She yelped and jumped backwards when she came face-to-face a scraggly young man standing upside-down on the ceiling.

He was a living defiance of gravity. Never mind standing upside down - his wide-brimmed hat sat atop his head as flat and level as if he had been standing normally. Messy blonde bangs threatened to cover his eyes, two drooping orbs of watery blue-grey. "It's easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you're hearing," he said. "But I'm here, hearing, helping...I hope."

Ahnnie blinked, somehow recognizing those eyes. Then she remembered - "You're the one who's been following me!" 

The man - or, Cole - jumped, rising briefly from the ceiling before somehow flipping right-side up in another gravity-defying feat. She instinctively backed away when he touched the ground, holding her sword out in warning at him. "I was watching," he explained, stepping forward for every step she took back. "I watch. Every templar knew when you arrived. They were impressed, but not like the Lord Seeker."

"Or Envy," she corrected him. "Was he a demon even then? At that day in the Bazaar?"

"Yes," Cole nodded. "It twisted the commanders, forced their fury, their fight. They're red inside."

She gasped, her back suddenly bumping against a wall. Determined not to let him corner her, she thrust her blade further at his face. "Not another step," she warned him.

But he suddenly blinked away and reappeared right next to her. "Anyway, you're frozen," he continued, unaffected by her threats. "Envy is trying to take your face, I heard it and reached out, and then in, and then I was here." He pushed away her blade with a casual hand, though she was too stunned at the moment to care. "If it bothers you, I can make you forget. That helps." Then he frowned. "No, you need all of you right now to fight...maybe later."

A muffled thud echoed from the floor below; Ahnnie's breath caught in her throat when she remembered what she had tried to flee from. "H-he's coming," she stuttered, bringing up the sword again. "All right, Cole, if you're here to help, then how do I get out?"

Cole looked at the stairs, then at the door. "It's _your_ head," he reminded her. "I hoped you'd know how to stop it."

"Great," she muttered, "just great!" The thud came again, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood, and her eyes frantically zeroed in on the door in front of them. "Through that door!" she pointed, and they both made a run for it.

But when she opened it, it was to find an angry figure glaring at her on the other side. If she was confused before, she was completely bewildered now, unable to think of why or how this person could have made it here.

"Mẹ nói với con như vậy phải không? _Phải không_?" the figure demanded, her old voice ringing sharply.

_No way...Grandma?_


	8. The Horrors Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains some depictions of childhood sexual abuse. Since the rest of the fic isn't likely to contain such content again, I thought it better to warn about it here before you read. (Also, there are definitions for foreign words at the bottom)

"You can wait here until she finishes," Ser Barris said as he led the Seeker, Warden, and ambassador into a stony waiting room. It was not exactly a picture of comfort, sporting one narrow window and furnished with hard wooden chairs. The only attempt at decoration was a single dark Seeker tapestry. Taking this into consideration, Ser Barris' eyes wandered over to the prim ambassador. "I apologize if it's not comfortable..."

"It is fine," Josephine assured him with a smile as she took her seat.

Blackwall sat down near her, while Cassandra elected to stand.

"If there's nothing you might need," Ser Barris began after a moment's silence, but Cassandra cut him off.

"Tell me, Ser Barris - what does the Lord Seeker want from this meeting?"

The Knight-Templar blinked. "Why, I thought he explained it in the letter."

She glowered at him. "Josephine?"

Josephine immediately looked over to Cassandra. "To work out negotiations," she replied.

"But to what end?"

Ser Barris frowned. "To better relations with the Inquisition, of course."

Cassandra began to pace about, her face brooding. "Is that really true?" she asked at last. "Even if we were to establish such relations, could we trust the Lord Seeker not to change them as suddenly as he brought them about?" Before Ser Barris could respond, she turned around to face him. "Something is not right. And you know it."

Josephine suddenly perked up. "He called her 'Herald of Andraste' - as did you, when addressing him," she added, turning to Ser Barris. "The Lord Seeker may have become fickle, but he never was any flatterer. He could have chosen to call her 'the Herald', or simply 'Herald' instead; a very drastic change, in light of his former opinions."

"I assumed it was because he wanted to facilitate negotiations," Ser Barris said, though his frown and the tone of his voice told them he was now thinking otherwise.

Blackwall looked from each of the women to the templar, then to Cassandra again. "What do you think is-"

Suddenly, a flustered templar rushed into the room, panting heavily. "Derlin," he wheezed, "they're going crazy - it's not safe - you've got to -"

Ser Barris' frown deepened. "What are you talking about?" But before the question could be answered, a man in bigger armor leading two others behind him strode stoically into the doorway. Ser Barris recognized him, as his question indicated. "Knight-Captain?"

The cowering templar gasped, scrabbling frantically for his sword. Just as he had it withdrawn, one of the men behind the Knight-Captain intercepted him, knocking the weapon out of his hands with a savage blow before plunging a blade deep into his abdomen. Blackwall and Cassandra instinctively reached for their weapons and Josephine let out a scream of horror as the bleeding templar fell dead to the ground. Ser Barris stared at the corpse and then up at the Knight-Captain, eyes wide with incredulity.

The Knight-Captain's response was cryptic and confusing. "The Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by arriving with purpose. It sowed too much dissent."

"Knight-Captain Denam, I must know what's going on!" Ser Barris demanded.

"You were all supposed to be changed!" Captain Denam barked. "Now we must purge the questioning knights!"

"Change...?" A look of horror overcame Ser Barris' face. "You can't mean-"

"The Elder One is coming! No one will leave this place, who is not stained red!" Captain Denam waved forth the two templars at his side, and they advanced into the room with their weapons ready.

"Maker's breath!" Ser Barris cursed, and he, too, drew out his sword.

* * *

 

"Có phải không?" the old woman demanded again.

Ahnnie backed away from her and bumped into Cole. With a nervous jump, she whirled around to face him, but when she did so, the door and the tower room were revealed to have disappeared - in their stead were modern furnishings, faux leather sofas and a glass coffee table cornering a squat television set, the old kind with antennae on top. And they were not alone; two younger women, one squat, one tall, stood glowering on either side of the grandmother, their arms crossed. A skinny man stood off to one side, his black mustache drooping on his moping face. Behind the adults, three younger children sat with their faces downcast at a glass dining table.

And then, when Ahnnie completed her circuit, she found herself staring down on a frightened little girl with bobbed hair.

 _Me,_ she realized.

"Nói đi," one of the women snapped, and Ahnnie turned back around to look at the squat one.

"Con đừng có giấu gì hết nhe," the tall one warned.

The little girl behind her began to sniffle.

"Nín!" the squat one snapped again.

Cole watched everyone around them with troubled eyes. "What are they saying?" he asked at last.

Ahnnie answered his question while staring at the scene, unable to take her eyes off of it. "I was seven or eight," she explained in a trembling voice. "Mom said something about grandma that I let slip while I was playing with my sister and cousins, and...and I can't remember what it was, but then grandma, my aunts, and my dad took it upon themselves to get the truth out of me."

She now realized what Cole meant when he said 'mirrors on mirrors on memories'; Envy was using things from her memories to try to 'know' her. First Maxwell Trevelyan, and now this...

"But she said it, didn't she?" her grandmother asked again. "Didn't she?"

The little girl pursed her lips and shook her head slowly.

The old woman bent down and gripped her by the shoulder. "Do you swear it? Do you swear upon the altar that you're telling us the truth?"

"You know what happens if you swear falsely!" the tall aunt chimed in.

Hesitance; then a slow, excruciating nod.

Ahnnie remembered this next part all too well. The first thing that came to mind when her grandmother smiled was that she looked like a witch, the evil kind that gobbled up children. "Then your mother is a liar, isn't she?"

Straining effort gave way to cracking pressure. The girl's lower lip trembled, then let out a whimper, and in a great hiccup of air, shuddered to life in a series of sobs. Tears streamed freely down the little cheeks as though suddenly released by floodgates, and the eyes from which they emanated squinted shut, unwilling to meet the cruel gazes of the woman standing in front of her.

"I knew it!" the squat aunt shrieked. "I knew she was too much of a coward-"

"No, she said it!" argued the tall aunt. "She's just using her daughter as a cover-"

"Who cares? In the end, she can't be trusted," the grandmother interrupted, rising up to her feet.

From the dining table, one of the children gripped its glass edge with as much patience as a frustrated five or six year old could muster. "Ba!" she cried out a moment later, mixing her English and Vietnamese in a stilted tongue. "Daddy! Tell them to stop bothering Chị Hai! I want to go home!"

The mustached man stirred to life at this plea and morosely nodded at the three women. "All right, that's enough," he grumbled, heading over to the crying child. "You know what happened now. I'm taking her home."

The child at the table immediately ran up to her father and sister. The other two children looked up, as if noticing everything for the first time. "Bye Khang, bye Phương," she said to them before rushing protectively over to her sister's side.

"Bye Tiên," they waved, their voices subdued. "See you tomorrow..."

The scene dimmed and the figures froze, leaving Ahnnie and Cole as the only sentient beings left in the room. Ahnnie then realized she had been watching the exchange with bated breath, and heaved a great inhalation of air to recompose herself.

"After all this time, it still brings up pain," Cole muttered, and Ahnnie whipped her gaze over to him. "Tight and endless, difficult questions-"

"Stop that," she snapped. "Stop reading my mind." _I didn't know he could do that._

"No," Cole shook his head. "Your pain. I hear peoples' pain-"

"Okay, whatever!" She turned away from him, lest she be tempted to knock that sullen face of his with the blunt end of her sword. Returning to the matter at hand, she was not sure the memory was completely over. _There was more to it, because it continued..._ She followed a sound up the stairs, hearing what seemed to be another familiar voice. At the top landing, she noticed one of the rooms had a light on, shining bright against the gloom.

"Are you going to follow it?" Cole asked from behind her, and she jolted in shock; either he had been really quiet, or he used that disappearing trick of his to sneak up behind her.

 _I wish he wasn't here,_ she lamented. _He's super creepy._ But then again, in these mazes of her own mind, did she really want to be alone? _Even he is better than nobody, I guess._

"I heard that," Cole reproached, and his drooping eyes appeared to droop even further.

Ahnnie opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. _Great. I have to watch what I think now - or at least, what I think of while in pain._ Mental, physical, emotional pain...she'd have to watch them all. "Sorry," she apologized, before making her way down the dark hallway to the lighted room.

* * *

 

Solas watched the clouds overhead whilst leaning leisurely against the door of the carriage. They were puffy and lazy, ambling slowly along to the warm breeze that blew across the courtyard. The masked driver on the seat above him stared absentmindedly at his surroundings, trying to pretend the elven mage was not just an arm's reach below him.

The group had been some time in the fortress now; for how long, Solas couldn't tell. What he could tell, however, was that he was feeling something close to boredom as he stood waiting for them to finish. Just because he put on mild airs, it did not mean that he was immune to such feelings from time to time. Had this been a normal day, he would have contented himself with his studies and musings, continually expanding or working on his knowledge of the Fade...or just doing whatever, as long as it was to his liking.

The guards called out to one another, breaking him out of his thoughts. He turned disinterestedly in their direction, looking at them only because they had made a noise. Then he frowned, and suddenly straightened, when he noticed something out of place - a strange essence, a peculiar song, unlike that of regular lyrium - and narrowed his eyes at a series of chests some of the guards were carrying into the fortress. But just when he thought that to be the full extent of it, he noticed something else just as alarming.

The guards were closing the gates.

The driver noticed this as well, and fidgeted in his seat. "Excusez-moi? There are still guests inside."

If the men heard him, they did not show it.

"Excusez-moi?" the driver called out again. "Did you not hear me?"

Solas opened a carriage door, reaching in with a discrete hand to slide out his staff.

"They are guests of Madame Vivienne!" the driver shouted just as the gates came to a full close. "First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchanter to the Imperial Court! This slight will not be forgotten!"

One of them finally paid attention to him, but not in the way he expected. With a nonchalant gesture, a guard withdrew a crossbow from his side and fired it at the driver, shooting him clean through the head. "A mage's lackey," he grunted as he put the crossbow away. "Hmph. That'll teach 'im to tout threats of mages in a Templar stronghold."

Another guard chuckled, but then pointed out the presence of an actual mage in the courtyard. "A bloody knife-ear at that," he added disgustedly.

"Right," the first guard nodded, and they headed over to the elf's side of the carriage to deal with him.

Solas only marveled at their stupidity as they wondered where he was, all the while he deftly snuck up on them from behind and blast spirit energy at their backs, bending the mana in such a way that the life was sucked out of them with nary a sound but the quiet thumps of their bodies as they fell to the ground. When he finished, he looked towards the fortress entrance, thin brows furrowing in suspicion.

Without a moment's hesitance, he strode towards the entrance. Almost immediately, the remaining guards stopped what they were doing and rushed for him, determined not to let him pass. He quickly did a head count of them - _seven -_ and whirled his staff in a channeling of mana that, when he brought the point down to the ground, sent another blast of spirit energy through the courtyard. His intent was not to kill this time, but to stun, yet when the wave of energy dissipated, not many of the guards were stunned quite as easily - and he believed he had used enough mana to overcome even the normal templar capabilities.

He turned his attention on those who appeared especially resistant to his magic and chanted some words under his breath. _Let us see how much I am capable of..._ He could feel the magic shimmering in the air as he cast another spell from his staff, the ancient power thrumming through his veins, and in one final, triumphant push, he expelled the energy at the templars rushing at him.

This energy was different from what he had cast earlier. It was stronger, forceful, penetrating - it filtered through the redness of their hearts until it struck their very core, damaging them irreparably. One by one, the guards faltered in their advance, until a moment later, they fell as laboriously as fallen trees.

The last one dropped to the ground, leaving Solas free to show himself into the Seeker fortress. _Not bad, considering how long it's been,_ he thought, flexing a hand.

As Solas advanced into the hall, he could hear a great clamor coming from what he believed to be the great hall, as well as from above a flight of stairs winding to his left. Above those stairs, he thought he recognized the distant sound of Blackwall's voice. But first, he approached a couple of chests sitting by a wall, picking out the one closest to him.

With the bottom of his staff, he flipped it open. Vials of a glowing red substance greeted his eyes. "Red lyrium," he murmured, and ran urgently up the stairs.

* * *

 

"Stay behind me!" Blackwall commanded to Lady Josephine, who readily obeyed.

Ser Barris met Captain Denam's charge, leaving Cassandra and Blackwall to face off his templar aids. The templars proved to be difficult opponents, fighting with a fury and strength that was almost superhuman. The Seeker and Warden found themselves pushed back with every assault, just barely keeping up with each forceful blow. At last, when Cassandra spied an open moment, she focused her abilities on the raging templar before her. _Fire in his blood, coursing through his veins-_

The templar roared and writhed in pain, which Cassandra regarded with a measure of satisfaction _._ Her Seeker abilities still appeared to be in working order, despite the templars' new ferocity. They would be difficult to implement in combat, though; she had mostly found the necessity of their use when interrogating, rather than fighting. To use it in that manner, she would have to divert a large majority of her focus.

She quickly cut the screaming templar down before he might recover and came to Blackwall's assistance. The Warden was holding well against his templar, although if the fight continued any longer, he might just wedge Josephine between his back and the wall. Cassandra dealt the templar a ringing blow through an open side at his back and together, the Seeker and Warden succeeded in pushing him back. Still, it took quite some effort, and it wasn't until they had forced him against one of the chairs that he stumbled over it and allowed Blackwall the opening required to plunge his blade through the torso.

That only left the crazed Knight-Captain; Ser Barris had not been faring as well, having been beaten back to the far side of the room by Captain Denam. He blocked each oncoming blow more feebly, and sweat beaded all over his brow.

"Do you not see?" Denam cried. "Red makes us superior! You could have had a share of the glory, but you refused the Elder One!" With a ferocious swipe, Captain Denam knocked the sword clean out of Ser Barris' hand. "Prepare to face the consequences of your foolishness..."

"Barris!" Cassandra shouted.

The Knight-Templar closed his eyes, sensing his defeat. But just before the final blow could be dealt, a wintry crackling chilled the air in front of him. He opened his eyes a moment later to find the Knight-Captain frozen over, and scrambled to his feet before the ice burst into pieces and a followup blast of spirit energy rendered Denam unconscious.

"I thought you might need my assistance," Solas remarked as he came into the room.

Ser Barris looked bewilderingly at the mage. "How did you-"

"By doing what I had to," Solas finished dryly, before bending down to check the Knight-Captain's pulse.

"Is he still alive?" Cassandra asked.

Solas nodded. "But barely - I used more magic than was necessary. If we use a healing elixir, he may survive."

"If he even deserves it," Ser Barris spat.

Cassandra regarded the armored figure lying on the ground. "We will heal him," she then decided. "Then we will judge him after we find his master."

"Very well." Solas reached into a bag at his belt and opened a vial of the said elixir, tipping it gently into Captain Denam's open mouth.

Ser Barris knelt down beside the elf as he worked and picked off a ring of keys from the Knight Captain's belt. "Here, these are his keys," he said, tossing them over to Cassandra. "I would question the Lord Seeker about this...'Elder One'."

" _And_ the use of red lyrium," Solas added, tracing a veiny red pattern on the Captain's face. "It would appear that the templars have been using it in lieu of regular lyrium."

Ser Barris looked uncomfortable, but he was interrupted before he had a chance to speak.

"Lady Ahnnie!" Josephine cried out, apparently having regained her wits. "She is alone with the Lord Seeker!"

Cassandra cursed, suddenly remembering that fact. "Someone must stand guard over the Knight-Captain while the rest of us go to find her."

Solas volunteered for that duty, and Josephine was ordered to stay with him for her safety. They barricaded the doorway of the room as best as they could, with Solas positioned to meet any oncoming threat should it arrive, before Cassandra, Blackwall, and Ser Barris felt comfortable enough to head for the Lord Seeker's office. Along the way, they could hear the battle cries of the fighting templars echoing from the hall below them.

* * *

 

The scene changed again to the living room of a different house. The sound of two children crying was what met her ears first, followed by a reproachful female voice.

"How could you let her say that about me?" the voice was admonishing in Vietnamese. "You should have known better!"

Ahnnie's jaw tightened. _Mom,_ she thought.

The oldest child sobbed harder. "Mẹ, con xin lỗi - I'm sorry, Mommy!"

The younger child gripped onto the mother's sleeve in a desperate plea. "Mommy please, please don't go! It was a mistake! It won't happen again!"

The woman withdrew her arm in a dramatic sweep and started weeping into the couch. "First my own mother and sisters, and now my daughters? I can't handle this any longer!"

"Mẹ!" the oldest child cried again.

From behind the couch, a man with hawkish features stood cradling a baby boy, whose face was scrunched in preparation for a fresh onslaught of crying - the scene before him was distressing him immensely. The man himself was engaged in the same theatrics, wailing and tearing up and adding more fuel to the distraught woman's fire. "Don't do this - they're just little children! They were influenced by that side of the family; they didn't know any better!"

 _Dramatic pansy,_ Ahnnie spat, the bile rising to her throat.

"Of course, it's because they love _them,_ and not me!" the woman added.

"You stupid bitch," Ahnnie cursed, though she knew the memory phantoms wouldn't hear her, much less respond. Shortly after that debacle in her grandmother's house, her father dropped them off at their mother's for the regular two day visit. Halfway through what was supposed to have been an enjoyable evening, one of the aunts phoned her mother and set off the bomb that was the disaster playing before her.

Cole looked at Ahnnie, his expression indiscernible. "She wanted to go away," he then said, reading the pain from her yet again. "She wanted to leave, and never see you again until you were grown."

"She was being dramatic," Ahnnie interjected. "Trying to make us hate 'that side' of the family while making us more loyal to her. It would've done us a lot of good if she just followed through with what she said." Her eyes narrowed on the man, still sniveling in that disgustingly pathetic manner of his. "Bastard," was all she could ground out as she watched his face.

"Do you love your mother, or do you not?" the man then asked the children, holding desperately onto the baby boy. "Do you still want to see your brother again?"

"Yes!" they cried.

"Then don't talk to those people anymore! They hate your mother - they brought her to ruin, destroying her businesses, stealing her money!"

Ahnnie slapped her sword back into its scabbard to grip her head with both hands. "Oh my god! Is there no way to make you _shut up_?"

"I didn't say anything," Cole protested.

"No-" She waved a frustrated hand at the hawkish man. "Him - my stepdad!" She began to pace about the room in an agitated manner. "There must be some way out - _I'm_ the one who can't take this anymore!" Perhaps there was some door, some exit to this torture. If Envy's plan was to aggravate her, then it was working. "Through here," she called out to Cole when she opened what was supposed to have been the garage door.

But instead of a garage, they came into a small room with wooden paneling all around. Ahnnie looked confusedly about her, and at the forms of her twelve-year-old self and her ten-year-old sister, dressed in formal outfits and sitting quietly in upholstered chairs. _What is this?_ she thought, trying to remember...

Her father appeared in the doorway a short moment later, his sad eyes fixated on them. Ahnnie's throat caught. "No, it can't be-"

"Your mother has full custody now," he said, his voice low.

Neither child said a word. The younger one, however, was pursing her lips tightly.

"Since you've decided to go with her, I won't contest it any further."

"No!" Ahnnie cried.

He gazed upon them a little longer, trying to see if it would elicit any responses; but the girls kept their eyes on the walls, not daring to speak. "Just remember that I love you," he said at last, before disappearing from the doorway.

" _No!_ " Ahnnie shouted again. "You should have fought harder for us!" She tried to grab her father's arm, but her hand went through it as though through a hologram. "Ba! Đừng đi mà! _Ba!_ "

Cole grabbed her back. "It's not real," he reminded her. "It's only a remnant of what was real."

She rudely jerked her hand out of his grasp, but had to acknowledge what he said was true. Regardless, tears sprung from her eyes as she looked at her younger self maintaining a blank face, while that of her sister's threatened to give way to crying.

"I was horrible to him," she choked. "I said everything mom told me to say to him, hurtful things-" She squinted her eyes and wiped them with the back of her hand. She was surprised to hear herself admitting this to a complete stranger; it was not even something she had put much thought into until she saw it happening again, as vividly as the first time. "He wasn't all that great, but at least - at least he was better than her. We should have chosen him instead..."

" **Because of what happened next?** "

Ahnnie stopped crying. Before she could wonder where Envy's voice was coming from, her twelve-year-old self slipped out of the chair and walked over to her and Cole, eyes glowing green and mouth curved into a malevolent smile.

She immediately backed up next to Cole. "How did you follow us here?" she demanded.

" **I am everywhere** ," Envy said. " **And I will know everything.** "

The room around them darkened until the glowing green points of Envy's eyes were all they could see. Ahnnie drew out her sword again, wary of an eerie sursurrus whispering around them.

"What's happening?" she asked, and then suddenly Cole melted away from her. "C-Cole!" she stuttered, trying to grab him back. He seemed shocked as well, but could do nothing as his visage faded away into the darkness. " _Cole!_ "

Envy chuckled. " **You won't need him where you're going...** "

* * *

 

They met with red templars not less than a few moments after leaving Solas and Josephine. Those templars were engaged in combat with other templars, others who had refused corruption and were desperately trying to flee. Taking the advantage of surprise, Cassandra guided Ser Barris and Blackwall into flanking positions that crept upon the red templars from behind.

The red templars whirled around in surprise, suddenly outnumbered six to three. Even so, they fought savagely, and proved to be more than either side could handle; with the regular templars almost exhausted, and Cassandra, Barris, and Blackwall fresh out of a recent fight, they were all soon pushed back into a retreating position on one side of the hall.

"Maker's breath," Blackwall hissed as he received a cut to the upper arm. He drew back accordingly and parried an incoming blow, favoring his injured arm. "Is there no stopping these brutes? They fight like three men to each one!"

"It's the red lyrium," Ser Barris gasped. "The Lord Seeker made us take it, but a number of us were wary of something so different-" He grunted as he took a blow to his side from one of the red templars' shields. "It changed our commanders, making them more violent - more paranoid."

Cassandra pushed against her assailant's blade, and then cried, "Any who are templars, stand back!"

"What for?" one of the templars on their side asked.

"Just listen to me!" Noting Ser Barris' withdrawal from the combat, she turned to Blackwall. "Cover for me," she instructed him, and the Warden nodded back at her.

It would be too much for Blackwall to hold off three of these templars at once, so she had to work quickly. Drawing on her inner energies, she focused on the three templars before her. With a steadying breath, she tapped into their bloodstreams, listening to the song that coursed through their veins - a noticeably different song, more aggressive and heated - and set it on fire.

It achieved the desired effect, although not as thoroughly as she hoped. The templars went wild with pain, howling like madmen, and fought even madder. Cassandra discerned an instability to their performance, however, and rallied the templars behind them to charge forward. "Push with everything you have!" she commanded. "And no matter what you do, do _not_ hesitate!"

With a rallying cry, the men obeyed her, diving in for the kill. Regardless of whether the red templars had been their brothers-in-arms, their companions in the mess hall and fellow colleagues, they cut them down now like livestock in the slaughtering pen. With that valiant push forward, they were able to regain their position, and even successfully break down the red templars' stance. Ser Barris dealt the first kill, knocking a red templar over the side of the balustrade; he fell to his death with a _crack_ on the stone floor below. A fellow templar followed through with a spearing stab through a red templar's gut, and Blackwall aided the other two in cornering the last enemy before knocking off his helmet and slicing through his neck.

"Are you all right?" Blackwall panted as he looked over to Cassandra.

She nodded in affirmative to him, though she could feel the beginnings of weariness course through her arms. The Warden must have noticed how little she fought in that push, dealing only assistant blows rather than any kills. _I must watch how I use that ability,_ she thought, gripping her sword a little tighter. _Damn it, if I had known, I would have practiced-_

"Thank you, Seeker," Ser Barris said, interrupting her thoughts. "Without that, we might not have made it."

She nodded to him. Then, turning to the normal templars, she asked them, "What is the situation below?"

The templars looked at each other, before looking over to her. "It's madness, Seeker," one of them said. "The red ones - they've overrun the great hall. They called us in and locked it to...to..." He shook his head. "We were among those who managed to escape."

Cassandra waved the matter away. "I understand. Are there any more of your brethren who are not corrupted?"

The templar who had been speaking to her gulped. "I'm afraid not, Seeker."

"At least, not that we know of right now," another one added.

She watched their weary faces in turn. One was bleeding from a cut to the head, and the two others were sweaty and haggard. She guessed they too were harboring injuries, just ones she couldn't see, and did not wonder that they had been locked in combat with the red templars for too long. "We need to find the Lord Seeker," she said at last, "and we will need your help. As soon as this is done, we promise to find you aid."

They looked wearily from Cassandra to Ser Barris and Blackwall, but did not deny her.

"What other choice do we have?" the first one said. "It's that, or die at their hands. We'll go with you."

Ser Barris nodded and led the way. "Come; we must also find the Herald."

There were no objections to that, either.

* * *

 

Solas tensed as he heard the muffled sound of fighting from beyond the door, but relaxed a moment later when he realized it wasn't going to come to their side. He thought the barricade of chairs a little lacking, however, and reinforced it with crystalline ice.

Lady Josephine watched him with wary eyes but refused to fixate on anything else. What else was there to look at? Besides the Seeker tapestry, all the furniture was stacked up by the door, and there were two dead men - actually, one dead, one near death - lying on the floor. The place was the exact opposite of relaxing and gnawed bitterly away on the Inquisition ambassador's nerves.

"You can trust me," Solas said after a while, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm not going to freeze you over."

Lady Josephine jolted. "I wasn't thinking that," she protested. "I was merely trying to distract myself."

"Hmm." Solas stood back to admire his handiwork. "It would seem that violence does not suit you."

"Of course it doesn't; I am a diplomat, remember?"

"Yes, of course..." Solas turned back around and sat by Knight-Captain Denam's head again. Josephine decided to stand, not wishing to share space with anyone who might not be living any longer in the next minute. The Knight-Captain's breathing seemed steady, however, after the elven mage gave him that healing draught.

How the day had changed! If she had known it would be anything like this, she would have sent a refusal in response to the Lord Seeker's letter. Then again, how often was it that military organizations threatened mutiny on themselves and their guests in the middle of a great capital city? If it was in some place like Therinfal Redoubt, for example, then maybe she could see the possibility of a trap like this. But in Val Royeaux? Either the Lord Seeker was now a madman, or a wildly daring tactician.

"What do you think the Lord Seeker _really_ wanted to do with Lady Ahnnie?" she asked after a while, unnerved by the silence.

Solas looked up at her with a grim expression. "My lady, if it is anything like we've seen today, my guess is that his aim was to kill her."

Her breath caught. "No! No, that can't-"

"We cannot be sure," Solas interrupted her. "I have been thinking it over, and there might be a way to confirm if-"

"What is that way?" she cut in. "You must use it! You must not let her die!"

He paused again. "May I finish?"

Josephine blinked. "I apologize..."

"There might be a way to confirm if the deed has been done," he continued. "As we all know, Lady Ahnnie is not the best fighter. If the Lord Seeker were to turn on her, it would only be a matter of minutes before she is slain."

Josephine pursed her lips, having no choice but to accept what he said as true. _And if she is slain, so will be the Inquisition's aims -_ for without the Herald, how could they stop the Breach as promised? _Oh Josephine, how could you be so foolish?_

"It will require absolute silence," Solas said. "You need not worry for your own safety - this should take but a few minutes, and I've ensured that the door is properly barricaded."

"Do what you must," she nodded, sinking down to her knees across from him. "I will watch over the Knight-Captain for you."

Solas nodded. "Very well." And then he closed his eyes...

* * *

 

"I miss Ba," Tiên sniffled.

"Shh, you don't want them to hear you," Ahnnie shushed; normally, she would have reprimanded her sister for having such thoughts. After all, the only one who cared was their mother; right? But today, she was sensitive to her sister's feelings. And she knew what would happen should those feelings become public knowledge.

Their mother and stepfather strode proudly into the room a moment later. Ahnnie perked up, putting on a smile, but Tiên's face was still downcast.

"Finally! I knew I would win," their mother beamed.

"Of course; you're the better parent," their stepfather added.

"Now you don't have to see him anymore," their mother smiled back - a wide, full-toothed smile, full of rewards and promises.

Their brother, now five, came up to them, looking beseechingly into their faces. "You're not going away anymore," he said, "because he can't take you away; that's good, right?" Then he noticed Tiên. "Chị Tiên? Is something wrong?"

Almost immediately, their mother zeroed in on the moping girl. "Are you upset about something?" she asked. "Did _that man_ say something to you?" She knelt down to face Tiên, and the little girl stiffened. "Tell me - did he say anything that bothered you?"

Tiên shook her head. "He didn't."

"Then why are you crying?"

Ahnnie's face blanched, as well as their little brother's. "Bình, come here," she gestured quietly to the little boy, and he scampered over in obedience. She rose from the chair, aiming to exit the room with him, to leave Tiên alone to the impending wrath like the coward she was-

"I miss Ba," Tiên whimpered again.

It was like a volcano erupted. One moment, their mother was all sweets and smiles; the next, she was a raging bull, an angry banshee - she was everything that terrified them in that moment, but she was not their mother.

"Why would you miss him!? I've done _everything_ for you! How could you be so ungrateful!? What more can you want from me now!?"

Tiên sobbed. "I won't see Ba anymore! I won't get to see Khang and Phương!"

"You don't need them!" their mother shrieked. "You have me, you have your sister and brother!"

Young Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip, and Bình covered his ears. The stepfather herded them out of the doorway and into a separate room. Before he closed the door, though, they could hear the enraged woman scream, "You're no daughter of mine, if you still care for that _bastard_!"

Bình started to cry, and Ahnnie hugged him close. "Shh, it's okay," she coaxed. "It'll be over soon..."

"How could your sister be so selfish?" the stepfather asked a moment later, putting on distraught airs once again. "It's already been done! She's already chosen! Don't you agree?"

Ahnnie pursed her lips, but nodded anyway.

"Come here," her stepfather then demanded.

She blinked. "But-"

"Come _here_." His voice was stern.

Reluctantly, she released her arms from her younger brother, and came up to the man. "Yes?"

He drew her into his lap and cradled her with his arms. She stiffened; something was different about this hug. Something that she wasn't sure would be good, for some reason. "Bình, go play with your legos," he told the little boy.

With a naive sniff, Bình went off to do as he was told, occupied a moment later with the little lego toys on the floor.

"Um...what's going on?" Ahnnie asked, feeling his hot breath course down her neck.

He gave his answer a moment later with a shove of his hand down her private parts. Before she could protest, he whispered into her ear. "You chose this, remember? And now, there's **no going back...** "

" _No!_ " Ahnnie screamed, struggling with all her might against Envy's illusion. "Let me go! You can't make me-"

" **Tsk, tsk, tsk,** " Envy tutted. " **That wasn't what you said.** "

Ahnnie coughed as she found herself once again deposited in darkness. A sickening feeling swirled in her stomach as she felt the vivacity of the illusion - Envy practically forced her to relive it, to feel and see everything just as she had on that day. _I can't do this anymore,_ she thought, on the verge of sobbing. _No more, I can't..._

" **So soon? But there's more!** "

A door creaked open ahead of her and she looked up to see a bedroom bathed in moonlight. She gasped when she saw it and closed her eyes, refusing to look at what went on inside - a moment later, she shut her ears, refusing to listen to the tinny sound of her own whimpering and a man's pleasured moaning echoing from the door. But regardless of how she tried to shield herself, she could feel the intrusions on her own person. The pain spearing through her vagina, the humiliation of privacy invaded, the degradation of the dirty talk...

" **What a twist of irony, that he should wait until you were old enough** ," Envy mused.

 _He was a cunning bastard,_ Ahnnie remembered. _He did everything else and purposefully waited until I was eighteen for my virginity_ _to push the fact that I was 'consenting'._ She squinted her eyes tighter. _I hate him so much..._

The darkness dissipated around her to become yet again another living room, but this time of their present house. Another explosive argument was erupting between Tiên and their mother again, albeit this time, things were turning more against the stepfather's favor.

"If you actually loved us, you would have left that asshole a long time ago!" Tiên yelled. She was now eighteen, rebellious and frustrated. "He's a jerk and a bully, even to his own kid!"

Thirteen-year-old Bình sat quietly on the sofa, staring down at the rug beneath the coffee table. Ahnnie herself stood subdued by the piano, frowning angrily at the hardwood below.

 _I remember this,_ she thought as she watched herself, and then her sister and her mother. _This was when I thought of telling Mom about what he was doing to me..._

"What would you have me do, huh?" their mother shot back. "I'm up to my neck in paperwork and debts, trying to keep you all afloat! Haven't I taught you how to defend yourselves? Save me some of that trouble!"

"Save you? Oh, _save you_ that trouble?" Tiên shook her head, her glance incredulous. "Listen to yourself. That's not a mother talking. That's a-"

"I command you, with the power the spirits have given me!"

"Oh my god, do you even _hear_ yourself? You sound like a lunatic!"

"I am their chosen god!" she shouted.

"You _failed_ to protect us! You married this jerk because he said he was some rich dude back in Vietnam, and then you just let him leech onto us like a parasite!"

"That's not true!" Her mother's face was getting redder.

"Yes, it _is,_ " Tiên shot back. "Don't lie, okay? After you married him, everything's been going downhill. We've been poor, we've been living off of debts, you've been crazy, and at times we live like kings, because _you've been committing fraud against a whole bunch of people."_

The mother's eyes narrowed at her youngest daughter, the implication palpable in the air. "Fine," she barked at last. "Since you want him out so badly, I'll do it - I'll kick him out-"

Bình pursed his lips and shot up off the couch. Ahnnie watched herself tense, then follow him, stopping near him at a spot by the staircase.

"You ok?" she asked him gently.

He shook his head, trying his best to stifle the oncoming tears. "I don't want him to go," the boy ground out. "He's my dad, and I still love him."

She remembered her heart sinking at this response. _Of course he loves him,_ she had thought. _He's the only other parental figure Bình's ever known. If he goes now, Bình will be devastated._ She remembered thinking about her brother's performance in school and the stress of family pressures added onto academic ones. "I'll talk to Mom," she then said. "I'll do my best to convince her to keep him, and Tiên as well, I guess..."

"Will you?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Mom listens to me, remember?"

 _Because I'm the good kid,_ Ahnnie thought disdainfully. _Because I'm obedient and nice and gentle..._

A cold hand suddenly clasped around hers. She whirled around in alarm. "Cole!" she cried, and impulsively hugged him.

He gave a start, but pat her on the back anyway.

"Where were you?" she demanded once she withdrew from him.

"Trying to find you," he replied, much to Envy's chagrin.

" **As if you can do anything to help,** " the demon spat.

Cole frowned beneath his hat and pulled on Ahnnie's hand. "This way," he said, his voice urgent. "You can't stay in this place any longer-"

"You can say that again!" she agreed, and followed his lead. They disappeared through an open coat closet, but Envy wasn't finished with them.

" **You have not escaped yet! I _will_ know you!**"

"Don't listen to it," Cole warned her. "It does it to-"

But Ahnnie gasped as the white tile floor beneath them became awash with blood. Cole noticed it as well and paused before he could step into it. Ahnnie froze, as if suddenly paralyzed; then she slowly looked up, following a pathetic weeping sound up to a bloody girl with no pants on crying by the toilet, holding up a small fleshy object in her palms.

And of course, that girl was her. The memory came flooding back through her consciousness like an unwanted assault; nineteen years old, just past the cusp of adulthood, suffering a miscarriage fathered by none other than-

Envy chuckled. " **Did I not tell you? And now if I - or rather, _you_ \- remember correctly...this took place not longer than several moons before you crossed worlds.** "

She shook her head. _No, I don't want to think about it. I don't, I don't, I don't..._

" **No matter how you try to deny it, it** **happened,** " Envy said. " **Oh, and watch the next part. You throw the fetus into the toilet-** "

" _H_ _e_!" Ahnnie shouted. "It was a 'he'!"

Envy sounded amused. " **And how did you know that?** "

Ahnnie let go of Cole's hand and sank to her knees. "I just did. The whole entire time, up until I aborted..."

" **Weren't you relieved?** "

She peered into the phantom of her weeping visage, marveling absentmindedly at how strange it was to see herself from another point of view. "Yes," she admitted, "and no..."

"Broken and empty, devoid of all meaning," Cole intoned from behind her. "A loss that no one knows, that no one _can_ know of. It must be endured, hidden." She let it pass this time.

The weeping Ahnnie froze and the scene around them dimmed. " **What a poor, pathetic creature...d** **on't worry. I will make you great.** "

Ahnnie looked up, suddenly aware of a gentle caressing on her cheek. It came from Maxwell Trevelyan, standing just above the bloody girl and fetus.

" **It need not be this way. You don't have to resist; why be so foolish? Spare yourself the pain...** "

Cole snapped back to awareness. "No, don't listen to what it says-"

" **Do you want to live like that? Do you want to continue being someone's slave, sacrificing your own life for another's selfish whims?** "

Somehow, Envy struck a chord within her. "No," she replied, "no I don't..."

" **Of _course_ you don't,** " Maxwell smiled. " **You desire greatness. _I_ can give you greatness. With my power, you can rule as you've never done before; stomp on those who would see you trodden!**"

And somehow, that seemed satisfying.

Cole tried to tug on her, but she wouldn't budge. "Don't give in, don't listen-"

" **Silence!** " Maxwell roared, lunging at Cole. The young man gasped as his collar was grabbed. " **You're nothing but a dissenting voice, flailing against the darkness, the inevitable!** "

"Dark and desperate, death to make yourself alive," Cole ground out, responding to riddles with yet more riddles. "I used to be like you. I'm not anymore. You shouldn't be, either."

But it wasn't that that finally broke Ahnnie out of her trance. It was a ringing voice she'd grown to know; the voice of a friend, a mentor, an elder.

" _Ahnnie!_ " it cried out, and she whirled around to find its source.

Her eyes widened with joy. "Solas!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Có phải không? - Isn't that right?
> 
> Nói đi! - Say it!
> 
> Con đừng có giấu gì hết nhe - Don't you dare hide anything (using the pronouns of an adult speaking to a child)
> 
> Nín! - Quiet!
> 
> Chị Hai - Oldest sister
> 
> Chị - Older sister, in general
> 
> Mẹ - Mother
> 
> Đừng đi mà! - (But) Don't go!
> 
> If you're curious about pronunciations, I suggest you plug the words into Google Translate, which now has an accurate Vietnamese voice (for the northern accent, however, and Ahnnie is southern - please keep that in mind). I'm just too lazy to do it here, plus reading it only goes so far towards sounding like the actual thing :P. If you have to manually type in the words, I suggest turning on the input method (the little 'e' on the lower left) and choosing the word with the right marks as it comes up. Oh, and disregard whatever English translations that pop up. Those are NOT accurate at all.
> 
> And yes, I've taken great liberties with the companion's abilities. I got info on them from the DA wiki and just fleshed 'em out a little more here. I hope that's okay for y'all.


	9. Green With Envy

"Up there!"

"Stop them!"

Ser Barris immediately looked over the balustrade and saw the red templars who had spotted them. "Blast it," he cursed. They had gone for some time unmolested now, crossing yet another open hall, and were so close to the Lord Seeker's Office!

The three templars with them tensed and prepared their stances, anticipating yet another hard battle. Blackwall shifted the weight of his sword to his other hand, trying to ignore the cut on his arm; Cassandra brought out her shield in a defensive position, still not quite recovered from her abilities. They could try to ignore the threat and rush for the office, but then that would leave them disadvantaged in a smaller room and easily cornered.

"Stand ready," Cassandra commanded, hoping to bolster their resolve with the hardness of her voice.

Heavy footsteps echoed louder and louder up the stairs; swords were drawn in a steely squeal of metal, and a bark of angry voices confirmed their location directly up ahead. Several seconds later, the gleam of metal armor appeared right around the bend.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, trying to see if she could count the men rushing at them. _Five,_ she thought in dismay - just one short of their own number, but with what they experienced so far, it would be more than enough to do them in.

Beside her, Blackwall was suddenly distracted with something from the corner of his eye. She didn't take much notice of it, although she was slightly disappointed in him for allowing himself to get distracted in such a crucial moment. Then a moment later, she was able to tell why.

" _Woooohoooo!_ "

The jubilant cry, so out of place in the gloomy fortress, especially with the red templar threat, jarred all of their senses uncomfortably. Ser Barris couldn't help but look to see what it was, and Cassandra confessed to a sidelong glance in that direction as well. What she saw made her fully turn to gape in confusion.

"Woooooop yeah! Eat _that_ , ya big shite!"

A young blonde girl was swinging up-side down from the heavy chandelier in the ceiling, holding a bow in her hands and loosing several arrows in the red templars' direction. One of them took an arrow through his visor while his companions managed to swerve around him and avoid the incoming missiles. Below her, a templar archer emerged on the scene and took aim at the chandelier; when it swung over his head, an arrow came down from it and killed him instead. As the chandelier swung back closer to the balustrade, the girl let loose another arrow that took a red templar on the back.

Cassandra shook her head. "Charge!" she barked, ready to take the advantage so abruptly given to them.

The six of them met the remaining four red templars head on, bracing themselves for the coming impact. Neither of them took note of what the archer on the chandelier was doing anymore; they focused on the combat instead, hacking away with just as much abandon as their enemies. Cassandra knew that the archer was still working, though, when she saw several more arrows studding the back of one of the red templars. But it wasn't until the archer flipped right-side up and held the templar's neck in a scissor lock with her legs, dragging and dropping him over the balustrade, that he was finally finished.

In an acrobatic somersault, the archer released herself from the chandelier, flipped over the balustrade, and landed deftly behind them. Her arrows, still intact thanks to the quiver design, were immediately put to use as soon as her feet touched the ground. Thus, they were given the bonus of a long-distance auxiliary fighter.

Blackwall rammed his blade through a red templar's gut, doing his best to ignore the shield that bashed him on the side of the head. With a great push, he bowled the templar into the path of his colleagues, pushing them back at once and leaving them prime targets for the phalanx consisting of Ser Barris and the three uncorrupted templars. When they pulled back after a brief clash, the archer loosed another volley, and then they grouped together again with Seeker Cassandra for another assault.

Whoever this archer was, she was able to read the patterns of battle and work in tandem with those in front of her; she was careful enough not to misfire on friendly forces, but fast enough to shoot through gaps at the enemies. _She is skilled,_ Cassandra had to admit.

And with her help, they pushed and pulsed on the enemy templars until they had the lot of them cornered against the balustrade. It was still amazing, how resilient these corrupted templars were; one of them had arrows protruding through his torso, and the other a bad cut on his flank, and yet were still resisting just as fiercely as before. Cassandra held up her shield and bashed the first of them over the balustrade, followed by Ser Barris and another templar. Ser Barris had some difficulty with his, but an arrow to the neck facilitated the fall a moment later.

When they finished, Cassandra turned around to look at their new colleague. _An elf,_ she was astonished to discover from the pointed ears jutting between the shaggy blonde bob. "Who are you?" the Seeker had to ask.

"It's obvious, innit?" the elf asked back.

"No, I'm afraid it is not."

The elf rolled her eyes. "Ugh, really now?" she groaned. "Can't tell between people fightin' _with_ you or _against_ you? I'm a friend, duh!"

Blackwall came up to them and swore. "Maker - it's Sera!"

She looked at him. "Hey, Blacky-beard!"

"Black _wall_ ," he corrected her.

Cassandra stared at Sera in disbelief. " _You're_ Sera?"

"Yeah, and you're the Seeker Lady," Sera grinned.

Cassandra looked from Blackwall and back to Sera, then shook her head. "How did you know to come here?"

"So I got friends, yeah? They told me Lord Lucy-pants was meetin' with the Herald today."

The Seeker frowned. "Lord Seeker _Lucius_."

"Whatever!" Sera exclaimed, then continued, "I thought, 'innit weird? He hates her guts!' So I went to check it out n' saw some baddies dead out front. Figured something smelled fishy, so here I am."

Ser Barris peered over Cassandra's shoulder to look at the elf, then turned questioningly to the Seeker. "Is she trustworthy?" he asked, his voice apprehensive.

"Hey, I helped you, okay?" Sera shot back, startling the templar.

Cassandra sighed. "We will have to put up with her for now. We don't have the time to debate her presence." Turning to Sera with a gesture at the red templars below, she asked, "I don't suppose you're the only one who's noticed the trouble?"

"I sent word to some friends," Sera told her. "They'll be comin' round soon."

 _Maker's breath._ If they were anything like Sera...but Cassandra had to admit how welcome the news seemed. _Let us hope these 'friends' are good enough against the corrupted templars._ "All right; no more dallying. We must continue on our way."

Cassandra was aware of the glances the templars sent Sera's way, but contented herself with the fact that the elf had been useful. Of more concern were the injured in their party; some of the templars had sustained new cuts, while Blackwall appeared to be getting a little pale. Still, he carried himself stoically, bearing his pains with gruff dignity.

Sera fell into step beside him and peered curiously at his beard. "Look at you, all serious," she mused. "You're not a Seeker, or a Templar - what're you again?"

"A Grey Warden," Blackwall replied, eyeing her strangely.

"Ah, those. What do Wardens do when there's no Blight, anyway?"

"Whatever it takes to keep the world safe," he answered gruffly.

She tilted her head in curiosity. "Like, join Inquisitions?"

Blackwall shrugged. "If that's what's necessary. Hey, you're here, too."

"She's _what_?" Ser Barris asked incredulously.

"Ignore it," Cassandra commanded him.

Sera looked at the Seeker's back and made a face. "The Inquisition can't be all broody beards like you and the Seeker Lady," she complained.

"Cassandra doesn't have the hair for it," he assured her.

"Oh, I bet she does," Sera giggled. "Places."

Some of the templars found this amusing and snickered. Cassandra, on the other hand, grew red in the face and clenched the hilt of her sword tighter. "That's enough!" she barked, and the templars immediately shut up.

"Knew it," Sera smirked, and giggled again.

 _Ugh..._ The Seeker shook her head in exasperation. She was thus grateful for the appearance of the Lord Seeker's door a moment later. The corridor was empty, thankfully enough. But when Ser Barris tried to open the door, he found it locked tight.

"Blast it all," he cursed. "How could I have forgotten-"

"Just let me do it." Sera pushed through the templars and Seeker and bent down by the doorknob. Withdrawing a pin from behind an ear, she inserted and twisted it into the keyhole. After a few seconds, there was a satisfying _click_ , and she stepped back proudly.

Ser Barris opened the newly unlocked door and gave her an uncomfortable look. "Thank you, I suppose..."

"Pfft. You're friggin' welcome."

The group filed inside. They each unsheathed or readied their weapons as they entered the room, having spotted the Lord Seeker standing behind his desk. But what alarmed them the most was the sight of the Herald lying unconscious on the desk, head turned to the side and hair splayed over the wood in a dark curtain. The Lord Seeker had a hand on the the base of her neck, around her collarbone.

"Lord Seeker Lucius!" Cassandra barked. "Step away from the Herald - now!"

He appeared ignorant to this command, continuing to run his hand along the girl's collarbone and then up her neck. When his fingers touched her cheek, he looked up to regard the people gathered in the room. "Well," he mused. "So you've made it."

"Step away," Cassandra repeated. " _Now_."

The Lord Seeker chuckled. "Why so brash? Can't we just have a...talk?"

"That's not what you've been having with the Herald, apparently," Blackwall said, his eyes glaring at Ahnnie's prone form.

"Oh, it's _never_ too late to talk things out," Lucius interjected. "Six swords to one man; who in their right mind would fight back?" He then held up a dagger in his other hand. "There is always room for negotiation..." With a pointed look, he placed the blade's point in the hollow of the girl's neck.

 _By the Maker,_ Cassandra swore. _How he has changed!_ "What is it you want, then?" she asked, wary of the dagger's point so close to the Herald's skin.

The Lord Seeker shook his head. "You wouldn't understand." He turned back to the Herald, and everyone feared for a moment that he would stab her - instead, he hefted her limp body in his arms, the dagger kept across her lolling neck. "And you won't _need_ to. Very soon, there won't be any of you left to understand anything." With a brash kick, he opened the big window behind him, letting in a great gust of wind that flickered the flames in the hearth and sent papers flying about the room.

Ser Barris sucked in a breath. "Lord Seeker, please reconsider-"

"Reconsider! Now you're begging me?" He kept his back to the window, facing them once again. Then he took a step backwards.

"Oi!" Sera shouted, alarmed. "Whaddyou think you're doing!?"

The Lord Seeker noticed her for the first time. "Only what needs to be done," he responded cryptically.

"Bloody _bastard_ ," Blackwall spat. "If you dare take another step-"

Lucius laughed, and did just that. "What can you do to stop me?"

Cassandra's grip on the hilt was so tight, her knuckles whitened beneath her gloves. "Lord Seeker Lucius," she ground out, "have you gone mad?"

He turned from the Warden and tilted his head curiously at her. "Perhaps I have." Then, with one last devious smile, he pushed back with a foot and launched himself out the window, bearing the Herald with him.

" _No_!" Cassandra shouted, but it was too late.

* * *

 

Solas cast a white light with his staff that momentarily blinded the entire scene, like a great flash of lightning; when the light died away, Ahnnie blinked through the spots in her eyes to find that Maxwell had released Cole and was doubling over on the ground. The demon was displeased with the turn of events, as its incensed hissing indicated.

" **Y** **ou!** " Envy cried. " **Blasted elf-** "

Ahnnie looked at Solas. "Wait, you know Envy?"

Solas pulled her to her feet while watching the demon carefully. "We've crossed paths several times, in the Fade." His eyes narrowed. "Usually to its disadvantage."

Envy hissed again. " **Not this time, elf! The Elder One will triumph, one way or another.** "

"I'd like to see him try."

Ahnnie frowned. "You know who the Elder One is, too?"

But Solas gave her arm a brief squeeze that she took to be a discrete warning. She then decided to stop asking questions, though they still raced crazily through her mind. _Wait...if I'm in my own mind right now...then how is it I'm still thinking?_

Solas interrupted those thoughts with an urgent push. "I must get you out of here." He swept a worried gaze over the scene before him, at the frozen girl and the fetus, and the white tiled bathroom. " _Telamdys,_ " he cursed. "I had no idea it was something this serious..." He turned to her. "Envy has been trying to bring you down with bad memories. You must counter them with good memories; only in that way can you break its bind."

Ahnnie's face blanched. "So you saw all of...?"

"That is not important right now," he snapped. He let go of her and pushed her again in the direction of the bathroom door. "Run."

She looked back at him, desperate. "But what about you?"

"Never mind me! Focus on good memories, and take back control of your mind!"

Cole was at her side a moment later, surprising her yet again. "He is right. Here, I'll go with you."

She looked into the young man's slanting eyes, then back at Solas. Seeing no objections from the elf, she decided Cole was not so bad after all and clasped his cold, clammy hand once more. "Thanks," she said, and opened the bathroom door. Together, they raced out of it and into the winding corridors of her head.

* * *

 

"Now that we're alone..." Solas turned his attention back on the demon. "I do hope you're regretting this right now."

" **Bah!** " Envy spat, rising slowly to its feet. Its form was beginning to distort, bulging and pulsing with a smoky black substance. " **You will be the one regretting this, when it is all over.** "

"I daresay," Solas murmured, his tone sarcastic. The white tiled room disappeared and turned into a cold, misty landscape, lit by single crescent moon. "But I must give credit where credit is due. Had I not thought of coming, you might have succeeded." He chuckled. "Maxwell Trevelyan, hm? Quite a step up, even for you."

The once handsome face, now marred by a garish scar of black smoke, snarled at the elf. " **You think you are so powerful, elf. That hubris - wasn't it once your downfall? Have you learned nothing from it?** "

"I could say the same for you."

Before a rejoinder could be prepared, the ground beneath them vibrated. Both demon and elf looked up, aware of a disturbance in the atmosphere. The air seemed to shimmer briefly, as though distorted by heat waves, and a distant cry reverberated over them. " _Lord Seeker Lucius! Step away from the Herald - now!_ "

Solas recognized Cassandra's voice almost immediately. _So she has found the Lord Seeker,_ he thought.

Envy cursed. " **An interference!** " But when it looked at Solas, it gave out a chuckle, which grew into a laugh. " **Strut and flaunt all you want, elf. You may have weakened me here, but you forget that I hold power elsewhere. In the end, I am the one who has her body - you won't recover it, not while you're still dreaming!** "

" _Oi! Whaddyou think you're doing!?_ " echoed a voice Solas didn't recognize.

 _Wherever the Lord Seeker is, it is getting urgent,_ he realized. As much as he hated to admit it, the demon was right. "We shall see about that," he then promised, before pulling away from the wintry mist. The moonlit landscape fell away, blurring into an indiscernible nothing, and then he opened his eyes a moment later back in the little waiting room with Lady Josephine.

Almost at once, the ambassador fell upon him with questions. "Well? What have you found? Is she still alive?"

Solas shot up to his feet, using his staff to steady himself. "Yes," he replied, "but in grave danger. I must go-"

"I am coming with you."

He shook his head. "I cannot put you through th-"

"That is not for you to decide," she interrupted. "Besides, I am not as helpless as I seem." She heaved a sigh, one that seemed to pain her, and explained, "I trained as a bard in Antiva when I was young. I renounced it because of the violence, but..." She shook out a long and thin blade from her sleeve as she rose to her feet. "If it comes down to it, I will use it to protect myself. And others."

Well. Solas hadn't been expecting that. "I see," was all that he said. "Well, then..." He knelt by Captain Denam once again, this time to slip a sleeping draught through the man's lips. _We can't have him waking up at an inopportune moment, after all._ Then, putting the vial aside, he took down the icy barrier and barricade of furniture. When he and Josephine were out of the room, he placed a barrier on the door - an inconspicuous one, this time - and rushed down the hall. Josephine went after him, daggers held ready.

* * *

 

Ser Barris raced up to the window. "Lord Seeker!" he cried, but try as he might, he could find no trace of Lucius or the Herald. It was as if they had vanished into thin air. "They're gone," he reported to the others in the room, and averted his eyes from Cassandra's glare as she brushed past him to confirm it for herself.

"Well that's just fucking _great_ ," Sera groaned. "You sure they're not grease spots down there?"

"I'm positive," Ser Barris insisted. "I would have seen them, otherwise. I...I just don't understand. How could they have disappeared? Unless it was by magic-"

Cassandra pulled back from the window, aware of a noise at the door. "More red templars," she surmised, and they readied their weapons once again in anticipation of another fight.

But when the door opened, she was shocked to find none other than a breathless Solas and Josephine stumbling into the room.

"Lady Josephine!" Blackwall exclaimed. "What're you doing here? It's not safe!"

"Did I not tell you to guard the Knight-Captain?" Cassandra reprimanded Solas.

But the elf was having none of it. "I would not have come if I didn't think the matter serious, Seeker," he bit back. "The Knight-Captain is adequately held for now, but forget about him; where is the Lord Seeker?"

"Jumped out the window," Sera supplied unhelpfully, "taking Herald with him."

Josephine let out a cry of horror. "No!"

"But we're not sure if they're, well, dead," Ser Barris interrupted. "I couldn't see them."

Solas headed up to the window, but after briefly looking down, he looked up and across at the sprawling battlements of the Seeker fortress. "They're fine," he said, drawing away from the open window. "I can lead you to them. However, the Lord Seeker will not be his usual self."

"I think we've seen that for ourselves," Cassandra interjected.

"No, it is more than that," Solas insisted. "It was not the Lord Seeker you saw in this room, but a demon - Envy."

A leaden weight suddenly descended upon the room at this revelation. Cassandra appeared to be hit the hardest, but was the quickest to recover. "Then..."

"We must move quickly. Just as the demon has assumed the Lord Seeker's form, it will attempt to do the same with the Herald. I have given her the tools to fight its influence, but we must not leave her alone with it for too long."

Cassandra cursed for the umpteenth time that day. From her training, she knew envy demons to be of the rarer sort, and among the more dangerous.

Ser Barris was aware of this as well, but his face was set with a grim determination. "So it's a demon," he growled, his eyes burning fiercely. "We've got no time to lose, then. But to fight a demon of that magnitude, we will need more lyrium."

The templars behind him nodded, and one of them piped up, "There's a store of it - regular lyrium - in the upper barracks, not too far from here."

"Where do you think the demon has taken Ahnnie?" Cassandra then asked Solas.

He pointed in a certain direction beyond the window. Ser Barris looked, and said, "The inner courtyard, then, or somewhere around it. We'll have to be quick."

As they headed out of the office in pursuit of this new goal, Sera made a face. "Demons? _Eeeeuugh_!"

* * *

 

_Good memories...focus on the good memories..._

Ahnnie shook her head in distress. _I can't!_ Not with all this fear, this uncertainty, and the pressing urgency that marked their flight.

Beside her, Cole suddenly stopped running, forcing her to stumble to a halt. "Is it difficult for you?" he asked, concerned.

Ahnnie blinked, realizing yet again that the young man had heard her mental anguish. "A little," she admitted. "I'm trying, though."

"Maybe I can help." He bade her sit down and settled across from her, his legs criss-crossed while she sat on her knees. "Can you think of warmth? Of comfort?"

"I..."

"Settle down. You're too fast."

She frowned. "But I'm sitting."

Cole shook his head. "No, no - you're going too fast, you're..." He held up a helpless hand, struggling to make her understand. "You're not still!"

"Um, I'm not moving, except to speak."

"No!" Cole cried out, frustrated. "That's not what I meant!"

Ahnnie grew annoyed. "Just what are you trying to say? I'm not moving at all, and you keep on-" Then she paused. _Wait, I think he means..._ "My thoughts?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

Cole nodded vigorously. "Yes, but beyond that - it's fast, it never stops moving, it's like...like a bird, it won't stop flapping, fretting-"

She immediately latched onto the last word. _Fretting._ "I get it now," she said, the answer dawning upon her. "You're talking about my anxiety." She heaved a deep sigh. "I...well, I'm trying, but this isn't exactly the best mood for good memories." _I mean, there's a demon trying to take my body, and I just witnessed some of the worst moments of my life._ Even the most stoic person in the world would be hard pressed to relax after that.

"You must settle down," Cole urged her. "Slow yourself, let go of the pain."

"You're one to talk."

"What?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. "Never mind," she sighed. "I'm trying, but I can't."

"Try harder."

"How?"

Cole frowned. "Well, how do you normally slow yourself down? Try doing that."

Goodness, this riddle-talk was frustrating. But she knew he was talking about calming her anxiety. _Hmm, how did I normally do it?_ She thought of drawing, but there was nothing to draw with here. Or to read, for that matter. And there was no piano to play. Plus, no dogs to walk. _Godammit, this is harder than I thought._ She shut her eyes tight, trying to think of other ways; ways she could use without anything around her, that would take place in her mind, and work just as well.

"You're doing it!" Cole enthused a short while later. "Keep doing it!"

 _What? But I'm not..._ then she realized that in trying to think of what to do, she'd already forgotten her anxiety. Still, she did not open her eyes. There was something comforting about keeping them closed _._ _Okay, let's see where we'll go with that._ She loosened her eyelids so that they weren't squinted as tightly and let her mind wander. Random images floated into her head; a pony, a cloud, a flute, a clover... _Right, I should focus on good memories._ Hmm, good memories...

"There was that one time Khang stuffed sand into a dude's mouth on Virginia Beach," she suddenly said. "The guy had his body buried in the sand and was asleep...I heard the lifeguard had to make him eat wax to get it all out..."

The crashing of waves met her ears, as well as the delighted laughter of children. Her eyelids shivered, then fluttered open, and she found herself kneeling on a sandy beach, surrounded by beachgoers and facing a group of four young children squealing mischievously over a spluttering head in the sand. Then her father ran up to the sand-choked man and began apologizing profusely. Her aunts followed shortly after.

"Khang got into big trouble with his mom after that," she murmured. "But when the adults weren't watching, we all laughed about it again."

"And?" Cole prompted.

Ahnnie pursed her lips, thinking. "And there was that one time Phương, Tiên, and I put our hair up in pigtails. 'Cause, you know, we were being girly, and then-" She chortled. "And then Khang suddenly wanted to do it too. But he's a boy, right? And his hair was short, so it was difficult...in the end, we did it anyway, and took a walk in the neighborhood to show it off."

The scene transitioned to a homely little neighborhood. Four such children as she described were linking arms, skipping merrily on the sidewalk and laughing hysterically every time a passerby saw the pigtailed boy. He looked like Boo from Monsters, Inc., but stockier.

Ahnnie laughed as well, and pointed at him. "Did you see that? His hair - ahaha!"

"Keep going," Cole urged her. "What else do you remember?"

"We went to Disney World together, and saw a play at the Cinderella castle-" The amusement park rose around her, as magical and charming as the first time she beheld it. "-we went on the Disney cruise line a year or so later, and visited the Bahamas-" Dreadlocked musicians played on their steelpan drums in an island city of color. "-and then there were those days when my dad would take us out to get bubble tea at the local Bánh Mì place." Four children sitting in the car, slurping on colorful drinks with black tapioca balls at the bottom. "Oh! And that one time...godammit, I can't remember what we said, but we laughed so hard, Khang squirt milk through his nose!"

It was like a locomotive gaining traction. The more Ahnnie remembered, the more memories returned to her. Even after the custody battle, she could think of something. "When me and Bình and Tiên, just the three of us went to see this Christmas parade in this small town - I think it was five years ago? God, was I really a teenager then? I'm _old_!"

And she couldn't forget the first time Cao-Cao and Cixi were brought home as puppies. Cao-Cao was older, so he came to them first, while Cixi followed around a year later. Cao-Cao was always a stocky one, puffy and fluffy like the big ball of fur he was. Cixi was smaller, and a lot more sassy, but no less adorable. Then the miracle of birth as Cixi welcomed nine little puppies into the world. And how could she forget Bilbo's antics, sticking his nose up people's buttocks in greeting and doing all sorts of tricks for a tasty little tidbit?

"See?" Cole said, smiling. "You just had to slow down."

Ahnnie turned her head from the ever-changing scenery and smiled back at Cole. "Yeah...you were right. Thank you."

At last, the memories slowed to a pause, like the sweet dusk of a summer sunset. They left a pleasant glow inside her, a warm and fuzzy feeling that she welcomed with all her heart. At that precise moment, Cole stood up, holding out a hand for her.

She eagerly took it and let him pull her to her feet. "What's going on?" she asked.

"It's time," he responded.

"For what?"

"To break free."

Still confused, she looked around them. "I don't see..." Then she noticed how their surroundings were slowly brightening, as if the sun was rising over a new land. The air before her shimmered and sang with a powerful clarity that struck her in the very core. Cole's hand grasped hers a little tighter, and he gave a short nod.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She looked into his watery blue eyes. "Yup," she nodded back.

"All right, then-" With a great leap, he pulled her after him, and they fell into a weightless abyss of shining white light.

It turned out to be light from the sky a moment later, as Ahnnie's eyes began to flutter open. _Wow, how pretty..._ but then her vision cleared, and the stony face of Lord Seeker Lucius appeared directly above her. A cold piece of metal was also laid against her neck; with a dawning sense of horror, she realized it was a dagger. Before she could let out a scream, Cole tackled the Lord Seeker away from her.

Ahnnie sat up, feeling the bite of the blade drag against her skin. She held a hand to up her neck and pulled it away to find blood. Luckily enough, it was just a flesh wound. Not so luckily, Cole received a stab to the shoulder for his insolence.

"Cole!" she cried out, scrambling to her feet. The young man was then rudely pushed in her direction, bumping into her face. She steadied him from behind and whirled him around to look at his shoulder. "Oh no, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he ground out.

She let out a hiss of breath upon seeing how deep the wound was. _"_ Christ, Cole, can you even move your arm?"

"Enjoyed yourselves, didn't you?" the Lord Seeker then snarled, and her attention turned to him.

With one hand still placed on Cole's shoulder, she unsheathed her sword and held it out threateningly. "It's over, Envy," she shot back. "You couldn't take control of me. I won't let you try again, or hurt anyone else!" She deeply regretted leaving her glaive behind at the chateau, but resolved to fight using what she had. _I've got no other choice._

The Lord Seeker's features started to bubble and contort. His limbs jerked wildly, as though he were suffering from a seizure. But he was still standing, and he appeared to grow taller with every jerk. "I touched so much of you," he reproached, his voice unsteady. "But you are selfish with your glory. Now, I' **m no one!** " With a great roar, he burst through his armor, sprouting two extra limbs on each side of his torso. His shoulders and legs elongated, and his face bubbled over in a great mound of flesh. What stood before them was the Lord Seeker no longer - it was a stilt-legged demon with four arms and a bulbous face, stretched over with a naked skin of musty pink flesh.

"Christ on a cracker," Ahnnie swore, drawing back a step. Cole did so as well, but stopped clutching his injury to withdraw two daggers from his belt. Seeing the resolve in his eyes, she strengthened hers as well and lowered herself into a fighting stance.

The demon roared, and made to lunge at them.

* * *

 

They arrived at the upper barracks only to find it barricaded. Ser Barris pounded urgently on the door, hoping there were still people inside. "Is there anyone there? Let us in! We are normal templars!"

"I am Seeker Cassandra, of the Inquisition," Cassandra then shouted. "We are here to help."

Still, no response.

Cassandra nodded at the door. "Break it down."

Ser Barris, the three templars, and Blackwall made to rush for the door; Solas waved them off impatiently and cast a spell with his staff. It splintered the wood with a spear of ice, and he cast another to do it in. But just before the magic could reach, it was repelled with a force only templars were capable of.

"All right, all right!" a voice shouted from inside. "Just stop making so much noise!"

The elf smiled knowingly and lowered his staff. A moment later, part of the barricade fell away and the splintered door was pushed aside to reveal a room sheltering several other templars. Seeing that the people before them were uncorrupted by red lyrium, they tentatively let them inside.

"Ah, Barris," one of the templars sighed in relief. "Thank the Maker, you're alive!" He didn't even bother with the fact that a mage was with them; being able to find people who weren't red templars was consolation enough.

Ser Barris nodded at him. "Same to you, Fletcher."

Ser Fletcher then directed the other templars to rebuild the barricade, but Cassandra stopped him. "Since we have found you here, we might as well go together to stop the Lord Seeker."

"Or rather, a demon that's been impersonating him," Ser Barris clarified. "We need to defeat it, rescue the Herald, and get the hell out of here."

Ser Fletcher's eyes widened. "Surely you don't think a force our size can overtake the red ones down below?" he challenged, gesturing briefly at the weary men in the room. Ser Fletcher included, they numbered at six, which if added to the other party made fifteen people - a pathetic force, indeed. "There won't even be a man left to fight the demon, if it ever comes down to that."

"So, what, you're just gonna sit here?" Sera asked, crossing her arms. "Hide until they disappear?"

He shook his head. "What choice do we have?"

Ser Barris furrowed his brows and stepped up to him. "We are _Templars_ , Fletcher," he reminded him. "We do not hide, not when there's people to save."

"It's just one girl-"

"Who holds the key to stopping the Breach. Even then, who knows what else this demon will do? And all because we refused to stop it." Ser Barris held the other's gaze steady with his eyes, before breaking away to say, "Those who choose not to go, fine; don't go. But allow those of us who _are_ going the lyrium we need to fight the demon."

An uncomfortable silence followed this declaration, weighing heavily upon them all as Ser Barris and the three templars with him rummaged through the stores for lyrium. Eventually, one of the other templars in the room began to help, and so did another, until only Ser Fletcher was left. With a sigh, he joined in as well, and drank a draught of the glowing blue lyrium.

"I still don't think you should come along," Blackwall was saying in the meantime to Josephine. "It's a demon-"

"Bard training includes combat against Fade creatures," the ambassador interjected. "Besides, I will be assisting you from the side, not diving into the thick of battle."

Cassandra turned curiously in their direction. "That may be true," she agreed, "but how long has it been since you've last fought?"

"Not counting the occasional skirmish or unwanted advance of an overeager noble, it has been several years," Josephine admitted.

"Hardly reassuring," said the Seeker dryly. "But we shall see how it goes."

The templars at last were ready. Their attention turned to the Sers Barris and Fletcher, who were engaged in formulating a plan of action. It was at last decided that they would not return to the hall but take down a barricade on the farther side of the room and exit through there, where it would lead out to a series of parapets that could take them to the inner courtyard faster.

They stalked out of the barracks in two groups, careful to keep their advance quiet lest they should encounter red templar patrols. If there were to be any, their greater advantage lay in that of surprise. Each group split up at a certain junction in the parapets, led by a capable templar who knew the way by heart. When they met up again a while later, they were relieved to have not encountered any corrupted templars on the way, though that luck might prove to be short-lived.

Solas stirred in the direction of the courtyard, and the rest believed they could hear the distant sound of shouting and things crashing. "It is near," the mage surmised.

Ser Barris then led them down to a set of stairs in the wall. They all descended at a rapid trot, eager to reach the Herald as soon as possible. As they gathered at the bottom, they were wary of the possibility of red templars in the area and came close together.

Strangely enough, there were none.

Cassandra kept her sword ready as she stalked forward. "Be wary," she warned them all. "This seems too good to be true." She would have told them to split into two groups again, except that their numbers were so few and their enemies, so powerful.

Unbeknownst to her, Sera occasionally flitted her eyes to the parapets above them, as if in search of something elusive.

When they finally neared the fated courtyard, they found a tall, fleshy demon swinging its long arms in haphazard motions at the ground. It was chasing a fleeing figure, who was ducking frantically around its sweeping attacks. The figure turned out to be the Herald, overall fine except for the dust and scratches she'd received from rolling on the ground. What baffled Cassandra most was that the girl was actually head-to-head with a demon, all on her own.

Of course, she would not be able to hold out for long. "Charge!" Ser Barris cried, and they leapt to life at this command.

Upon sensing their intrusion, the demon whirled around and roared. Almost as if they understood it to be a command, red templars rushed out of nowhere, blocking their advance with an impassable line.

 _I knew it!_ the Seeker cursed. But seeing no other way around it, she ran to meet their charge; as she did so, she mentally prepared herself for another display of her abilities.

"Whoa!" Sera cried out upon seeing the templars. She skidded to a stop and shot an arrow randomly into the air, hitting nothing but the dusty ground behind the enemy's line.

"What're you doing!?" Blackwall shouted incredulously, unable to believe her ridiculous aim.

"Just watch!" she shouted back, a wide grin on her face.

Bees.

Timed with an almost accurate precision, glass jars of bees were suddenly thrown from the parapets to break open at the red templars' feet, right before Ser Barris' force could come close. Upon hearing the angry buzzing, Cassandra and the other templars halted their advance, watching in bewilderment as the mighty red templars before them were reduced to angry flailing and screaming. The bees were aggressive, hounding the men relentlessly and following their chosen targets regardless of where they ran.

Everyone turned to Sera, dumbfounded.

"Never fail to ruin parties, those bees," she said smugly.

"The work of your 'friends', no doubt?" Cassandra asked.

The elven archer only shot her a grin before loosing arrows into the frenzied red templar ranks.

The Seeker shook her head, and the warriors took advantage of their opponents' distractions to dive into battle.

* * *

 

Ahnnie heard the clanking footsteps of templars heading out to battle under the command of the demon. She turned in that direction and recognized her companions rushing to meet them; Cassandra, Blackwall, Solas, even Sera, and... _Josephine!?_ she thought in disbelief as she saw the ambassador on the edge of the conflict, throwing knives at a templar. Little specks flew around his head, looking an awful lot like bugs of some sort. Ser Barris and some other templars appeared to be on the Inquisition's side, fighting against the demon's templars...

 _This is so confusing!_ Why were templars fighting fellow templars, and who was who? What the girl did not notice, however, was the almost feral ferocity of the demon's templars. She would not have time to notice, for Envy turned back from the momentary distraction to attack her again.

"Cole!" she cried out, jumping to the side to avoid another swipe. "Cole, where are you!?"

The young man had been hit by the demon earlier, thrown off to god-knows-where. She certainly didn't know, despite running round and round in circles for what felt like ages. Three slashes graced Envy's left leg, the only cuts she was able to score before being kicked away or forced to duck. On the lower half of Envy's torso, there was a slash and a stab that had been dealt by Cole in an amazing feat of magic that turned him invisible, allowing him to sneak up on the demon when it least expected it. But it was from that attack that he was abruptly tossed away, taking the brunt of a swipe from one of Envy's long arms.

At last, one of the friendly templars broke through the line and rushed at the demon. His sword flashed white and he raised it into the air before connecting it to the demon's leg a moment later. Envy hissed, and turned to swipe at him. A second templar arrived and repeated the same maneuver. Thus occupied, Ahnnie shook away her worry for Cole and charged at the demon, aiming for the back of the legs. With the aid of the two other templars, she was able to score more cuts, and the demon appeared to be hard pressed between them.

Then it suddenly hissed and shimmered in a cloud of black smoke into nothing; in a bewildered whirl, she found that the demon relocated itself at the far side of the courtyard, erecting a glowing green barrier in front of it.

"It's trying to hide," Cole said from beside her, and she whirled back around to face him.

"Holy fuck, Cole!" she swore. The young man looked terrible; he was not only bleeding, but was badly bruised along his other shoulder and corresponding cheek. Blood was also dribbling from his nose in a thin red line; it was a miracle his hat even stayed intact. "You've got to get out of here-"

"But you need help," he protested.

" _You're_ the one who needs help," she insisted. "Seriously, before you get too hurt."

He suddenly looked behind him, then urged her to run towards the demon. "Hurry; it's bringing out the redder ones."

"The what?" Ahnnie asked.

"The _horrors_."

* * *

 

Josephine couldn't remember the last time she moved so urgently, flexing her limbs in an agile dance as she alternated between throwing knives and scoring hits with the elusive points of her daggers. On her own, of course, she was unable to take down a red templar; but alongside Blackwall, the feat was a possibility. They cornered one of the flailing men, the Warden parrying and slashing while the ambassador flitted around, stinging him in places he left open.

It was breathless and exhilarating, reminding her of why she had taken up the way of the bard back in her youth. It was also very sweaty, much to her dismay several moments later. _I do hope I am not required to do this much._

Just before the red templar could make a damaging riposte in response to one of Blackwall's attacks, Josephine snaked out a hand and thrust her dagger beneath the point of his armpit. The Warden immediately took advantage of the injury and bashed the red templar's chin in a punishing uppercut before thrusting his blade through the man's abdomen. With a final push, he slid the corpse off his blade, and nodded appreciatively at Josephine.

"That was good," he commented. "Better than I expected, even."

The ambassador tossed back a stray brunette curl. "Well," she said, her cheeks growing warm. But then she noticed the blood on the Warden's arm. "Good heavens! Are you all right, Warden Blackwall?"

He waved it away with a dismissive, "Eh, it's just a scratch."

A bloodcurdling scream diverted their attention from the wound. They looked in its direction to find one of the regular templars fallen, having been cut down by a brute of a red templar. Red lyrium crystals jutted out from this templar's back and his hands were unnaturally bent and clawed. It was then they noticed he did not wield a sword. Instead, the crystalline templar grew a wad of red lyrium in his back and flung it at his target with a hand.

"Holy Maker!" Blackwall pushed Josephine out of the way when he realized the red lyrium was heading for her. He narrowly avoided it himself, watching ominously as it exploded on the ground behind him and emitted an angry red essence. He turned his head back around and brought out his sword defensively before him, shielding the ambassador with his big form.

Several more of these brutes suddenly headed into the courtyard, taking aim with their red lyrium crystals. At this, Blackwall urgently ordered Josephine into hiding. "It's even less safe than it was before. Go-"

"I will not flee," the ambassador objected stubbornly, though she eyed the crystal templars warily. "Our being trapped in this mess is...partly my responsibility. I will do what I can at your side."

Blackwall stared at her in awe, as if unable to believe what he was hearing. "But the moment it gets too dangerous, you're getting out of here."

"Oooh, gettin' a little sweet now, aren't we?"

They both turned around in shock to find Sera smirking at them.

"Not now, Sera," Blackwall scolded her.

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh! Broody beard!" Then, shooting up an arrow again, she sent another signal to the invisible friends on the parapets.

"More bees?" the Warden asked.

"No," Sera shook her head. "Friends!"

Ropes came down from the parapets on the walls around them and hooded figures with various weaponry slid down to the ground. Their numbers were not easily counted, but one could chance a guess that they gave a boost of some eight to ten people to the Inquisition's numbers. They were not equipped to take down the crystal templars, of course - Josephine didn't think Sera or any of her 'friends' knew of that in advance - but their various other projectiles were certainly useful, such as a grenade that exploded sticky pitch all over a red templar.

"You certainly have some interesting friends," the ambassador remarked, watching the pitch-coated templar getting set on fire with a flaming arrow.

Sera chortled. "Told you they'd come!"

* * *

 

Ser Barris bellowed in pain as a red lyrium shard struck his cheek. Cassandra whirled around and blocked another shard with her shield, turning back to look at the injured templar. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice sharp.

The Knight-Templar winced as he clutched the side of his face with his free hand. "Maker's balls!" he ground out. "I should be fine-" But he screamed again as a burning heat singed his skin, threatening the corner of his eye and mouth.

Cassandra's brow furrowed deeper as she held off the red templar he had been fighting in addition to the one she was occupied with. In a risky push, she set their blood afire with her ability, granting herself the small advantage of their distraction but draining her stamina yet again.

An arrow sang through the air and sank in from the back of one of the red templars' neck. As he gave way, the other templar beside him received a jarring whack to the helmet with a powerful flail, causing him to stumble; a sword poked out of his stomach a moment later, and Cassandra looked up to face her hooded assistants, grinning broadly back at her.

"Afternoon, Seeker," one of them, a shaggy city elf greeted imperiously. "Red Jenny sends her regards."

 _Red Jenny?_ Then she remembered. "You're friends of Red Jenny."

The other, a bulky human, snickered. "Surprised, yeah?"

"We sure showed her up," the city elf grinned. "Proud one, she is, trying to take two on at once."

"Wonder if she'd take us two on at once?"

Amused cackling.

"If you have time to be joking, then you have time to be fighting," the Seeker put in dryly, unamused by their antics. She left them behind to assist Ser Barris, whose face was still burning. _Why am I not surprised?_ she asked herself as she heard the two 'friends' behind her make more insidious jokes as they fought. Looking left and right, she made her careful way towards an open arcade, herding the injured templar behind a pillar. "How are you feeling?"

Ser Barris winced. "It hurts like hell," he grimaced, "but give me a minute or two and I should feel better."

"Stay here in the meantime," she commanded him, and jogged back into the fray.

"Seeker!" another imperious voice called out to her.

But it was not a Red Jenny, thank the Maker. It was Solas; at least she could trust him to be serious. "What is it?" she asked him, drawing near.

He twirled his staff, shooting magical ice at red templars and crystal templars alike. "Where is Ahnnie? I need her to get rid of the demon."

Cassandra shook her head. "I've lost sight of her long into the battle."

He cursed in elvish. "Well if you find her, tell her that I need her. I have an idea she will be required for."

The Seeker could tell that the elf had hatched yet another plan in his mind. It amazed her sometimes, the solutions he could come up with. In situations like these, they almost always resulted in something useful - _such as his foresight on the Lord Seeker being an impostor,_ she thought. Trusting this to be another one of those plans, she nodded at him. "I will." _If I ever do find her,_ she then thought, giving the chaotic field one last glance before going off to join it.

* * *

 

 _Horrors?_ Ahnnie wondered, and then Cole shoved her rudely to the ground. "Hey, what gives?"

But a short moment later, he too fell beside her as an angry red projectile flew over their heads, landing on the nearest templar with a splintering hiss. It shot into his face and his skin, causing him great agony as its vehement redness spread like a poisonous cloud over his features. He fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

"It sings...sick music," Cole muttered, his blue-gray eyes widened fearfully.

Ahnnie looked in the direction of the projectile and saw its source. "What the _fuck_?" A hunchbacked giant of a templar was growing _crystals_ on his hump and flinging it at everybody! _What on earth?_ But somehow, those crystals were familiar. She narrowed her eyes, struggling to remember what they were. "Red leer...leer-something," she said at last, remembering Varric's horror upon seeing them.

"Red lyrium," Cole corrected her.

Then it dawned upon her. The templars on Envy's side were the ones wielding red lyrium. On those who didn't wear it on their backs, she realized their faces or other open skin were veined with copious amounts of red, whereas the templars on their side appeared normal. She did not yet know of lyrium consumption; hence, her confusion.

Ahnnie scrambled to her feet. "We can't stay here. We've got to stop Envy."

Cole jogged after her, giving her helpful pointers for when she had to avoid incoming launches of red lyrium. Along the way, she realized new people were on the scene; hooded people, working in tandem with the the normal templars, often with eccentric methods of fighting. As if in response, a pitch-coated, flaming red templar sped past her eyes, screaming wildly.

Ignoring them, she continued heading for Envy; along the way, she bumped into the Seeker.

"Maker's breath!" Cassandra exclaimed when she whirled around and saw Ahnnie. "There you are!"

Ahnnie smiled at the Seeker, more relieved than ever to see the glaring woman. "Cassandra! I'm so glad to see y-"

"Not now. Solas has been looking for you!"

The girl was then pushed in the direction of the elven mage, who was working with some three normal templars in holding off an advance of the lyrium launchers. The first line of red templars had more or less diminished by now; it was the crystalline ones they were now wary of, and fighting so haphazardly to diminish. Meanwhile, Envy nursed its wounds behind the glowing green barrier, summoning more crystal brutes onto the field alongside auxiliary archer forces.

Solas froze off one of the brutes, and noticed Ahnnie's approach. "Finally! Come with me."

Ahnnie ducked after him, running up to Envy's barrier. He waved his staff to deal with an enemy archer before stopping in front of the barrier, turning urgently to her. "What is it?" she asked, eager to be of use.

"I know you may not like this," he began, "but I will need you to focus on your mana."

With a grim determination, she nodded in affirmative. There was hardly any room for squeamishness now. "What else?"

"Give me your left hand."

She did just that and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath. It had been a while since the last time she willingly tapped into her mana; but then Solas began to chant something, and it helped her to relax a little more _._ Feeling the familiar tingle, she worked it up from her stomach and up to her arms. No further effort was required on her part, for the mark sucked all the power for itself, grabbing hungrily at the magic.

"Very good," Solas congratulated her as he held up her crackling hand. She opened her eyes accordingly and saw it flaring with wild green energy. "Let us see if this works-"

He held it up at the envy demon's barrier. Perhaps because it was reacting to something from the Fade, the flare suddenly shot out wildly in a beam almost like a rift-beam, but in a shorter burst. The dancing magic hit the barrier and broke it down, leaving Envy vulnerable once again. The demon screeched, obviously incensed.

Both she and Solas sprang back as Envy swiped an arm at them. Still holding onto her hand, Solas then said to her: "Now, we are going to create a rift."

" _What_!?" she exclaimed.

"Trust me," he assured her. Holding up her left hand once more, he urged her to think of shooting mana from the mark.

She turned away and closed her eyes again. All that mana, gathered collectively in her mark, pulsed and squirmed in an almost delighted eagerness to be set free. She was surprised to think of it that way, as if it were a living being, and with another chant from Solas, felt the familiar tug and pull of an elongated rift-beam. When she looked up to see it, she found it tearing at an empty space in the air, creating a neon green hole that grew wider and wider.

"Is this such a good idea?" she shouted over the din of the rift. It frightened her to think of what else could emerge from this tear in the Veil - they were hard pressed with the red templars already. She didn't think the addition of other demons besides Envy was such a strategic maneuver.

"As I said, trust me," Solas repeated. With an imperious hand, he waved forth the templars behind them.

Their swords flashing white, they charged for the demon with a bold war cry. Ahnnie noticed that they purposefully came at Envy's flank opposite the rift. When they fought the demon, they drove it back, pushing it closer and closer towards the newly torn rift.

Ahnnie beamed. "I get it now!" _Solas is brilliant!_ But she found herself faltering a moment later, and would have stumbled to her knees if it weren't for his firm grasp.

Solas noticed it. "You're magically weakened from your encounter with Envy," he said, looking over her confused features. "I apologize, da'len - if you can bear with this a little longer-"

She bit down on her lower lip and nodded. "I'll try."

In addition to the templars, the rift was sucking Envy in, pulling at the demon as it neared the many neon tendrils. Envy attempted to delay the inevitable by clawing its feet into the ground, but the rushing templars, with their anti-magic abilities, pushed it ever closer to the rift. Ser Barris arrived a moment later to assist them, one side of his face swollen red with an angry burn. With a great swing of his sword, he managed to hack through Envy's shinbone, severing the limb.

Solas pulled her hand away, suddenly stopping the beam. "And now, we close it," he explained, and brought her hand back up again for a new one.

Envy's shriek was ear-splitting as the mark shrank the rift. Ahnnie wasn't sure whether this was meant to trap the demon back in the Fade, or weaken it as usually happened when closing rifts. Her eyes were starting to blur and her head grew heavy, making that question seem inconsequential anyway. She could feel Solas using his other hand to steady the rest of her body, all the while the beam pulled and pulled at the center of her palm.

In a bright blast of green light that echoed across the courtyard, the rift was finally closed. Envy's body was suddenly petrified in green light, then shattered into a million points of light particles.

A great commotion went up from the courtyard around her. She could only assume that they were cheering, or fighting off the remaining red templars with a renewed vigor. At any rate, it didn't matter to her anymore, as she suddenly slipped from Solas' grip and fell to the ground, exhausted.

She was aware of someone pulling her up into their arms a moment later, causing her head to loll haphazardly like a weight on her neck. With bleary eyes, she tried to see who it was.

"Herald?" the person was saying. _I think it's Ser Barris..._ "Are you all right...all right?"

Ahnnie blinked and squinted, finding the glare of the sun on his armor uncomfortable. A shadowy figure wavered behind the templar's shoulder, wearing what looked like a wide-brimmed hat. "Cole," she called out to it, her voice weak.

"What?"

She blinked again, and the figure disappeared. "Where...where is Cole?"

But she was unable to receive an answer to her question as the blackness crept around the corners of her vision, and stole over her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and edited Solas' scene with the guards because I realized how all-powerful it made him seem, at which time I also remembered that he didn't regain full stats until around Trespasser. Plus, fixed some of Envy's pronouns because I kept on thinking of it as Maxwell rather than a gender-neutral demon. I am such a doo-doo head.
> 
> Also, I may or may not have listened to Chandelier prior to writing the first scene.


	10. Aftermath

After the demon's defeat, the red templars were suddenly not so much of a threat anymore. But it was due more to a mass retreat than any miraculous lapse in strength; no one was exactly sure where they fled to, but they cleared out of the inner courtyard not too long after Envy fell. When the Inquisition decided to do a comb-over of the fortress, they were revealed to have completely vanished. Ser Barris surmised that they left through a postern gate, and had been preparing to leave Val Royeaux during the siege.

What they discovered in the empty corridors of the fortress was discouraging. In Knight-Captain Denam's quarters, they discovered the body of the Knight-Vigilant and papers implying Denam was aware of the red lyrium's dangers. In another room, they found plots to assassinate Empress Celene, and from another set of notes found scattered throughout the fortress, higher-ups had been aware of Envy's impersonation, even encouraging it, and the Seekers were not meant to exist in the new world the "master" was building. They could only surmise that this "master" was the Elder One, as Knight-Captain Denam had the courtesy to disclose earlier.

The aftermath of the battle was devastating for the templars. Of the ten that had fought alongside the Inquisition, there now stood only five: Ser Barris and Ser Fletcher, with three other men. As it was soon revealed, they were the only uncorrupted still standing in the fortress. The Red Jennies themselves had two casualties, while the Inquisition was lucky to have suffered none. However, everyone was a little more bruised and battered than before.

With nothing left to do, they all left the Seeker fortress. The Friends of Red Jenny disappeared into the alleyways and rooftops of Val Royeaux, while the Inquisition and five battered templars gathered up their prisoner and hailed coaches to take them to the Chateau de Ghislain. The carriage that originally bore them to the fortress had been smashed to pieces, the horses slain or stolen, and the driver, dead.

* * *

 

The first thing Madame Vivienne did upon hearing of the Herald's struggle against Envy was to quarantine her with a magic barrier and summon a spirit mage still loyal to the Circle to inspect her for signs of possession. Cassandra was displeased, for Ahnnie had been in the presence of not just a Seeker on the way back but five templars, and the Seeker herself had witnessed Envy's demise firsthand. But the precautions were understandable, so she did not raise much of a fuss - there was no use in doing so, especially when Ahnnie was cleared within the hour.

The girl had been carried back to the chateau largely unconscious and languished in her chambers with a fever, so she posed no difficulty for the spirit mage when he inspected her. As soon as the he was gone and the barrier taken down, Solas took to nourishing her back to health with a strong and bitter herbal brew.

Ahnnie did not know how much time had passed since then; everything had been so dream-like, so fuzzy; but at a certain point, she was lucid and noticed the elf beside her with keen interest. "Hey, Solas," she greeted him with a small smile.

He put aside the bowl of tea or whatever it was and smiled back at her. "A good morning to you, too. How are you feeling?"

She blinked, thinking about it. "Fine, I guess...you?"

"Likewise."

A silence passed between them. Then, licking her chapped lips, Ahnnie began, "What you helped me to do, to counter Envy...I can't thank you enough. Without you, I might have fallen to its temptation."

"I only did what I had to," the elf demurred.

"I know." She looked down on the folded hands on her stomach, noting absentmindedly how they seemed a little paler than before. "Um, Solas, if you're not upset, or anything-"

"Why would I be upset?" he countered.

She blushed. "Well, I just wanted to make sure. So, if you don't mind...could you teach me magic again?"

"Of course; I would be happy to."

Ahnnie breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god. Er, thank _you_. I...I just don't want something like Envy to happen again. And I realized...if I learn to control it properly, magic can do me a lot of good. Like, I don't have to be an expert at it, but I'd like to know how to counter demons when they try to possess me, for example." Looking up at him, she added, "I also don't want to be helpless anymore."

Solas nodded. "I understand, da'len."

She liked being called that; da'len. It made her feel like a child again, and in a good way _._ But she knew she couldn't be a child forever. She would not want that, anyway. With a heavy sigh, she addressed Solas in a more solemn expression, "Tell me...how many of my, uh, bad memories did you see?"

Solas' eyes slanted in pity. "Are you sure you want to ask that question?"

"Morbid curiosity, I guess."

For a while, he said nothing. Then, "I couldn't understand most of them. I am not fluent in your native tongue, after all." But she knew there were memories he didn't have to know Vietnamese to understand. It showed on her face, and he sighed a moment later. "I honestly don't know what to say," he confessed. "I never imagined it was so..."

"It's ok," she whispered. "I just never told you." Not that she ever would have told him, or anyone else, for that matter.

Solas busied himself with a potion from his bag, pouring it into the bitter tea and swirling the bowl so that it mixed evenly. "You try to suppress those memories," he then said. "I can understand why. But you need not bear them alone; if there is anything you wish to say, I will listen to you without judgment."

Ahnnie blinked. It felt so strange, knowing there was someone else who was privy to some of her darkest secrets. For how long had she wished for someone like that, staying by her side and willing to understand? Someone she didn't have to hide things from, whom she could trust without fear of burdening them or implicating herself? Her lower lip trembled, but she caught it with her teeth. "I...well, sometimes, when I'm alone, I..."

"Yes?" he gently prompted.

"Sometimes I just..." She shook her head. "I just can't believe that...that it all happened to me, you know? One moment, I was just a regular kid, and then the next..." Her nose congested, causing her to sniff. "It messed up my thinking. Like, I can't believe I actually thought it was a good idea to keep my stepdad in the house, just because my little brother would miss him...he was obviously a toxic presence, doing us more bad than good. Then I ask myself, why did this happen to us? Other kids get to live a normal life - why not us?

"And..." She gulped. "If I'm not careful, I...I find myself remembering...that time, in the bathroom..." A desperate hand clutched her stomach. "And I wonder why I didn't just - just _end_ it all, if that was what my life amounted to! I never imagined something like that could happen to me; and I was so scared, 'cause what if I got a uterine infection, or my mom found out? God-" She shut her eyes tight. "There were times when I was just so tired, that I wished I wasn't alive...but I was too afraid to...You know what?" she suddenly asked. "Sometimes I think my coming to Thedas was a result of that wish."

Solas stopped swirling the bowl and looked thoughtfully at her features. She didn't notice his stare until she reopened her eyes.

"Yes?" she asked, curious.

He shook his head. "It is nothing." Then he gestured for her to sit up, and she obeyed. With a careful hand, the elven mage held the bowl up to her lips and tipped the liquid in. She gave it a hesitant sip, scrunching her face upon tasting the bitterness, then relaxed a moment later as a pleasant warmth began to emanate from her stomach. "I mixed it with a sleeping draught," Solas explained when she asked about it. "Rest now, and you should feel better when you wake up again."

"I feel better already," she breathed as she settled back down into the blankets. Spilling some of her soul had helped alleviate the long buried pain, and if there was anything she learned from Cole, it was to slow down and think of the good things. _And look forward to them,_ she added in her mind as she laid her head against the pillow.

Solas brushed the stray hair from her face before taking away the empty bowl and rising from his chair. "Sleep well," he murmured, and then quietly left the room.

* * *

 

The day of departure finally arrived. Val Royeaux was a beautiful city, but Ahnnie wasn't sure she wanted to stay in it any longer. Thus, she welcomed the chance to step aboard the ship commissioned by Madame Vivienne, surrounded by familiar people whom she knew she could trust. It was only recently that she made the Madame's acquaintance, but after all that happened Vivienne's face seemed as welcoming as an old friend's.

"Do be careful with that," the Madame was chiding the porters carrying her luggage. "And make sure to secure it well in the hold. More to the left, please; leave some room for the others to come aboard. Oh, don't drag it like that! Do you _want_ to test my patience?"

From beside Ahnnie, Blackwall gave a chuckle. "Wonder how she'll take to having it brought up the Frostbacks. I don't suppose she'd start yelling at the mules?"

"The Madame commissioned porters in Jader ahead of time to come along and watch the mules," Josephine put in, "so I believe she will be snapping at both."

"Might as well hex the wind and snow while she's at it," Blackwall said, clearly enjoying himself.

"Do not forget the rocks," the ambassador added.

The both of them laughed, and Ahnnie couldn't help but smile as she listened to their exchange. The fight in the Seeker stronghold appeared to have made them more familiar with each other; Blackwall now regarded the ambassador with a newfound camaraderie (as much as his sense of chivalry would allow, anyway), and Josephine couldn't help fussing over the bandage on his arm every once in a while.

The captain soon began the announcement of setting sail, and Ahnnie looked back at the harbor one last time. _I wonder if Cole is nearby,_ she thought, searching for any sign of the bedraggled young man. She had felt no sensations of being watched while going through the city, and none of the companions ever remembered seeing him either, causing her to wonder whether he had just been a figment of her imagination. _If he's real, I hope he's okay. He was badly injured..._

"Ay! Inquisition! Don't forget _me_!"

Ahnnie jolted upon hearing the exclamation. She thought at first that it was Cole, but then quickly realized that the voice was female and Cole wasn't half as outspoken.

Cassandra looked at the gangplank. "Maker's breath," she murmured, shaking her head. Blackwall and Josephine shared the same reaction, although the ambassador was more amused. Solas on the other hand was curious, tilting his head around them to get a better look.

Madame Vivienne whirled around, stimulated by the insolence. "Excuse me?" she asked, eyes narrowing at the figure sauntering aboard. "You must be mistaken. I don't recall you being a member of the Inquisition."

Two burly shipmates blocked the new arrival upon hearing the Madame's displeasure. But Ahnnie stirred in their direction and said, "No, it's okay, she's with us. Hi, Sera."

Sera's grin went from ear to ear as she parted the shipmates and stepped aboard the deck. "Knew you would come through for me," the elf chuckled, hooking a chummy arm around Ahnnie's shoulder.

Ahnnie blinked at the sudden gesture before looking up to smile sheepishly at the Madame. "Yeah, I forgot to tell you about her...we recruited her on our first night in the city. But she was a big help at the Seeker headquarters, right, Cassandra?"

The Seeker made a disgusted noise, but nodded anyway.

Madame Vivienne looked from Herald to Seeker, lips pursing in disdain. "Well, then. I put my trust in your judgment." But she made a careful aside to the captain a moment later, eyes flitting suspiciously at Sera as she spoke. The man nodded and sent someone down to the hold - _to tighten up the cargo,_ Ahnnie suspected. She did not blame the Enchanter, so long as it wasn't because Sera was an elf. That seemed unlikely thus far, given her indifferent reception of Solas.

Beyond the girls, Cassandra was pinching the bridge of her nose. "All the curses in the world cannot explain how irked I am right now."

Solas chuckled. "Tired of repeating 'Maker's breath' over and over, Seeker?"

"I will soon tire of the others, should I take them up."

Josephine chuckled as well, but grew thoughtful a moment later. "Perhaps it is not so bad as we think. Lady Ahnnie must be bored, constantly surrounded by those at least a decade older than her. It might do her some good to have someone her age in the Inquisition to talk to."

"We never denied Sera's helpfulness," Blackwall put in, "but you do have a point."

"Let us hope she does not get roped into whatever mischief this Sera cooks up," Madame Vivienne interjected as soon as she was done with the last porter. "Now that, I won't stand for."

* * *

 

"Ar dirthan'as ir elgara, ma'sula e'var vhenan."

Ahnnie turned in her saddle to look at Solas, assuming that he had been speaking to her. But she soon saw that the foreign sentence was meant for Sera. _Oh, that's right,_ Ahnnie thought, _they're both elves, and Sera probably knows a few words._ It made her a little sad that she was excluded in this respect, having neither the knowledge of Elvish nor opportunity to converse in Vietnamese with any of the companions. _Oh well; I'll just listen to what they say. Maybe I'll pick up a word or two._

Sera stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry. " _Pppbbthh_!"

Solas blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"'Scuse yourself," the elven archer retorted. "Whatever you said and what I did, same difference to me."

It was one of the rare times Ahnnie saw Solas well and truly flustered. "I'd hoped, well, our people can sometimes feel the rhythm of the language despite lacking the vocabulary," he said after a moment of stunned silence.

"Uh-huh," Sera nodded. "Know what else is good? Words that mean things. Like these. _Words_."

Solas left her alone after that, his face disturbed. Feeling bad for him, Ahnnie chimed in, "Elvish words mean something, too. It's just that we don't know what they mean." After some thought, she added, "Any sound has a meaning to it, actually; it just depends on how the listener perceives it."

"Very insightful, da'len," Solas smiled at her.

She beamed back at him, rather proud of herself for thinking that up.

Sera gave her a curious glance from the corner of her eye before pulling back her horse into step with the girl's. "So," she began, "you and him're sweet on each other, yeah?"

Ahnnie spluttered for several seconds, much to Sera's amusement. "N-no!" she yelled out a moment later, drawing looks from Cassandra and Blackwall ahead of them. "That's not how it is," she clarified in a more controlled voice, though her face was beet red. "He and I, we're not like that at all. We're more like, like-"

Sera chortled. "I never said _what kind_ of sweet!"

But Ahnnie frowned, still reeling from the shock. "U-usually, when someone says that..."

"Right, well don't get your panties in a bunch. It was just a joke. You know what those are? Jokes?" Before Ahnnie could reply, Sera continued, "Anyway, I was just curious. You seem close-"

"Not _that_ kind of close," Ahnnie interjected.

"-and you like the elfy language, yeah? Wanna know what'll make him real pleased to hear you say?"

"I thought you didn't know Elvish..."

"I picked up a few words here and there," Sera explained. "This one I got from the alienages. It's real useful. For, um, saying thanks, I think; with lots of respect."

Ahnnie couldn't help but have her interest piqued. "Really?"

"Yeah! C'mere." When she leaned her head in, the elf whispered the word into her ear. "And if you want to make it _more_ elfy, you gotta add this word-"

Ahnnie withdrew her head and practiced saying it a few times. "Like that?"

"You're a natural already," Sera winked.

"What does it mean?"

"He'll tell you when he hears it," Sera assured her. "Just go and make him proud."

Ahnnie found her opportunity when their party stopped for a small break on a hill. Itching to show off her new knowledge, she sat down next to Solas as soon as she had her horse hitched with the others'. He was settled against a boulder, unhooking the skin from his belt to take a much needed drink. "Solas, I don't think I ever told you how much I appreciate what you've done for me," she began.

"Mm?" he asked, his mouth still on the skin.

"I know this is random, but I just wanted to say..." She ran the words through her mind again, making sure she had them right. "...fenedhis lasa, hahren!"

All of a sudden, Solas spat and choked on his drink. With an alarmed gasp, Ahnnie struck his back vigorously, worried with every hacking cough that each one would be his last. Only after he had calmed down, albeit with a newly drenched shirtfront, did she dare to ask after him in a trembling voice.

"A-are you ok? Can you breathe? Does it hurt? If you need, I can go refill your skin-"

Solas coughed again and wiped the moisture from the corner of his mouth. "Where did you hear that from?" he asked, his voice wheezing.

"What?"

"What you just said..."

"You mean, fenedhi-"

"Yes!"

"I got it from Sera..." She gulped, the realization dawning upon her. "What does it mean...exactly?"

Solas coughed twice before he was able to speak again. "I shall try to put this in the politest terms possible. You, very cheerfully, told me to go...go pleasure myself with a wolf's...penis."

"...Huh?"

Seeing that she hadn't fully comprehended, he decided to be blunt. "Basically: 'Go fuck a wolf dick, elder'."

Ahnnie's eyes widened in horror. _Now_ she understood. " _Sera_!"

* * *

 

Blackwall hummed a sprightly tune as he moved the knife across the piece of wood. He blew off some sawdust and scraped the wood again, delicately shaving off a thin piece with the sharp blade. When he was done, he wiped off the excess sawdust and held out the wood to get a better look. "Ahnnie," he then called out, "tell me if this looks right."

The girl was at his side within a few seconds. "Yes?" she asked, curious.

He held out the freshly carved wood to her. "What do you think?"

Ahnnie bent down for a closer look and let out a gasp of awe. "Chopsticks!" she exclaimed. "You made chopsticks?"

Blackwall shrugged. "Just thought I'd give it a try. Well? Are they any good?"

The girl took the thin pair of sticks in her right hand and studied them for a bit. They were around seven to eight inches long, made of a medium toned wood, and were rounded on one end and pointed on the other. She knelt down and used them to pick at the snow, pretending it was rice; then, she picked up a leaf, and held it before her eyes. With a smile, she turned to the Warden. "They're well balanced and I really like the grip. The wood is a good one, too, nice and sturdy. I just think the ends should be a little smaller," she said, running a finger down a tapered point.

Blackwall nodded as she handed back the chopsticks to him. "Nothing too serious, then," he said. "They'll be done by the time we get to Haven, and hopefully I can find some resin to varnish them with. Then I can give them to you."

Ahnnie blinked. "Really?"

"Of course. I'm not the one who knows how to use them."

She felt touched. "You didn't have to..."

"I figured it's the least I could do, to make you less homesick." His eyes met hers apologetically. "There being no demons where you come from, and, well...what happened with the envy demon...I just don't want that to be your biggest impression of Thedas."

She smiled up at him. "I've forgotten it already," she reassured the Warden. "And thank you...I'll be sure to use them. The chopsticks, I mean."

His beard moved up in a gentle smile that made her feel warm despite the snowy air around them. But a shout from the templars stole his attention a moment later, as did Ahnnie's. In alarm, they found Knight-Captain Denam trying to break free of the five templars holding him down, and rushed over immediately to help them. Cassandra was there a split second later, as were Sera and Solas.

"Careful," Ser Fletcher cried, "he's gone mad!"

Captain Denam was writhing and screaming like a man set on fire. Even without his armor and weapon, the Knight-Captain boasted an unruly strength. It was not enough to surpass the five templars, but it certainly gave them a hard time. In his thrashing, he struck Ser Barris on the bandaged side of his face; with a curse, the templar struck back with an armored elbow, knocking an ugly bruise onto the Knight-Captain's temple.

Cassandra was about to order some of the templars back to use her ability, when Madame Vivienne flicked an imperious finger and sent a jolt of electricity down the Knight-Captain's spine. Ahnnie shut her eyes and ears upon hearing the buzz, freezing like so until Solas assured her it was over. When she opened her eyes, she saw the stunned Knight-Captain panting on the ground.

"Ugh! Just let me shoot one through his head already," Sera scowled, pointing her bow at Denam. "He's gone loony-"

"We need him for questioning," Cassandra interjected as she pushed through the templars to inspect him. "And thank you, Madame Vivienne - that was quick of you."

"My pleasure," the Enchanter nodded, stuffing her hand back into her fur muff.

Sera looked from Cassandra to Vivienne with a disgusted grimace. "Tough luck getting answers out of a loony," the archer muttered before stalking off. She re-shouldered her bow as she went, grumbling angrily to herself.

"Wait, Seeker," Solas said, drawing up to Cassandra's side. "Let me give him some of the sleeping draught. It'll help calm him down."

"Better double the dose," Blackwall advised. "Wouldn't want him rearing up like that again."

"Do you need any help?" Lady Josephine asked, peering worriedly over the Warden's shoulder. Behind her, Madame Vivienne's porters were watching the group with wary eyes, hoping they would not be called upon if assistance was required.

"I will be fine. He is still right now," the elven mage assured them all.

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip, watching Solas tend to the man with trepidation. Then she turned to Ser Barris, who was off to the side clutching his face in pain. She decided to ask after him, being unable to look at the Knight-Captain any longer. "Are you all right?" she asked the templar, settling onto the log beside him.

He seemed surprised at her approach, but did his best to muster up a smile. "I am fine, thank you."

"He hit you pretty hard..."

"It's of no consequence."

She nodded, looking off in another direction. "Is Sera right?" she asked at last. "That he's, um, not mentally sane."

Ser Barris grimaced and shrugged. "Perhaps," he ground out. "He wasn't right in the mind back at the headquarters, either. But at this point, I believe it's more a withdrawal from the red lyrium than any of its effects."

Again, this red lyrium. Just hearing about it made her want to shiver. "So if the red templars have been taking it...would they, too, experience the same thing?"

"I would assume so," Ser Barris affirmed. "Same thing with regular lyrium, although it's much less aggressive than the red variety."

Wait - "So there's regular lyrium?"

"Of course," the templar said, sounding surprised. "You didn't know? It's what gives us Templars the power to fuel our abilities. Mages sometimes take it to increase their mana as well."

She blinked. "Then...you guys have to keep taking lyrium, or else have withdrawals?"

Ser Barris nodded grimly. "Lyrium wears away at the mind even when taken regularly, so that's why you don't see many older templars in service," he added. "Stopping its consumption just brings on the side effects sooner. But it's worth it to do our duty; how else can we combat magic and demons? Luckily for the Seekers, they don't need to take it to use their abilities. That's why they're our superiors."

 _Man, lyrium sounds worse than steroids._ It made her wonder about Commander Cullen, and the other templars of the Inquisition. _Are they really doomed to the same fate? That sounds horrible!_ Why would the Chantry allow them to ruin themselves like that? It seemed a cruel twist of fate for an organization of warriors under the Andrastian faith. But they seemed convinced of its necessity, its virtue, even, as Ser Barris mentioned. She supposed, then, that it must be a powerful tool; _but is it really worth it, in the end?_

As for those who took red lyrium...well, one look at Captain Denam told her their path was no better, either.

* * *

 

Knight-Captain Denam gave them no more trouble on the way back to Haven, even as the Inquisition soldiers led him away to the dungeons beneath the Chantry. The only trouble they had was navigating through the howling snowstorm, which was much more intense than anything Ahnnie had ever seen blow through Haven. It was amazing anyone could navigate through the perpetual white curtain racing down from the sky, and that was not counting the knee-high snow.

Everyone was thus grateful for the chance to shut it all out in the stone halls of the Chantry. With a shiver, Ahnnie stomped off the excess snow from her boots and watched as the others rid themselves of their own crevices of snow. Blackwall in particular had parts of his beard frozen, little icicles hanging from the ends of his mustache so that his open mouth seemed like a cave.

"Great Maker!" the Warden swore. "That's going to take a while to recover from."

Sera was hiding her hands beneath her armpits, and was perhaps the one who took the brunt of the weather as she didn't think to bring enough winter clothing. "It's only 'cause you're the Inquisition, okay?" she told them all, her voice shivering. "But I'm not doing this again. _Ever_."

Josephine shook off her cloak and strutted frozenly towards her office, eager to take advantage of its fireplace. "Ah, Val Royeaux," she sighed. "I am missing you already."

Madame Vivienne on the other hand was too speechless to say anything, merely following the nearest Chantry sister to the first available room. She didn't even mind that her porters had to stable the mules immediately, rendering her luggage temporarily unavailable.

Ahnnie shook off the snow from her cap before plopping it back onto her head. "Jesus," she muttered, "is this Haven's winter? It's freezing!"

"It is Wintermarch now," Cassandra affirmed, "so yes, it is winter."

Ahnnie's eyes widened. _Wintermarch? That's like, January on Earth!_ Now that Cassandra mentioned it, though, she had noticed snow on the way back long before they reached the Frostbacks. "How long have we been away for this time?"

Solas tilted his head in thought. "I think about six weeks," he then said.

She ran the months through her head. If what Solas said was true, then they had been away for all of Haring and it was now a new year. Then she frowned as she thought even farther back. _Oh my god! I've been in Thedas for five months!_ If it was mid July when she came and Kingsway, the ninth month, in Thedas, then that meant it was now the middle of November back on Earth. How quickly time had passed her by!

Leliana and Cullen then emerged from deeper within the Chantry, bringing her mind back to attention. After exchanging a few words with Cassandra, they pulled the Herald into another war room council, and Josephine was summoned within a few minutes to attend it. This time around, hot spiced wine was available for all attendees, making the proceedings a little more bearable.

Josephine took center stage for the first part of it, informing the two others of the progress made in Val Royeaux. "You should prepare to send another regiment to the capital soon," the ambassador then told Commander Cullen. "The Chantry has now welcomed Inquisition protection at the Grand Cathedral."

"That sounds like good news," the Commander nodded. "A shame the templars abandoned their senses as well as the capital, though."

"Speaking of which, we've received word from Grand Enchanter Fiona in Redcliffe that the rebel mages are amenable to an alliance," the spymaster said. "With the Chantry no longer a threat, this means we now have an opening to approach the templars and mages."

Ahnnie fidgeted. "But, about the templars-"

"We've put the Lord Seeker on the defensive with our aid to the Chantry," Cullen assured her, an encouraging smile on his face. "It might take some time, but something can be reached with the templars. I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker."

She shook her head. "No, there are no templars to negotiate with. Like, at _all_."

Both Leliana and Cullen blinked at her. "What?" the Commander asked, dumbfounded.

Josephine heaved a weary sigh. "Unfortunately..." And she began to relate to them the events at the Seeker headquarters, sparing no details except for the specifics of Ahnnie's attempted possession, which she did not know of anyway. "The only templars we have on our side are five knights who escaped the battle with us."

The news took the wind out of Cullen's sails. Ahnnie felt bad for him as she imagined the thoughts that were probably running through his head. _It must not be easy to hear something like that about a group he was part of._ Then she turned to Cassandra, wondering what the Seeker thought not only of Lucius' betrayal, but the disappearance of the other Seekers - _this Elder One...he doesn't want them in Thedas, and the red templars probably took the remaining Seekers away with them. She's always so serious, though; it's hard to tell what she's thinking.  
_

"Well," Leliana said. "That leaves only the mages."

Commander Cullen was speechless for a few seconds, looking as though someone had just murdered his best friend in front of his face. "Knight-Captain Denam is imprisoned below, you say?" he murmured a moment later. "Yes, I'll look into it...and I'll see what I can do for Ser Barris and the other templars..."

Ahnnie sipped her wine, unable to look into the Commander's haunted face. Instead, she listened to Cassandra, taking solace in the Seeker's confident voice.

"We will prepare to leave for Redcliffe, then. We will require soldiers like last time, however; there's no knowing if this invitation is a trap set by the mages."

"Of course," Leliana agreed. "What happened in Val Royeaux cannot be repeated. In that case, I have a solution that can save us the soldiers from Haven."

Cassandra nodded. "Please."

"While you were away, there was a young man by the name of Cremisius Aclassi who came bearing a message for the Inquisition." Leliana paced about the war table as she spoke. "Apparently, he comes from the Bull's Chargers mercenary company, and his commander - a Qunari by the name of Iron Bull - has offered to assist the Inquisition. We need only come to the Storm Coast to see a demonstration of their prowess and work out negotiations from there. My latest report from Harding indicates she is in the Storm Coast right now; you could meet with this Iron Bull first, giving my people down in Redcliffe time to secure the area, then travel with Harding and her regiment south to the Hinterlands."

"That seems a sound plan to me," the Seeker agreed.

"Whatever works best," Josephine said when Ahnnie looked at her.

Commander Cullen appeared to have recovered from his shock, though his face was still grim. "Very well. It'll give us the time we need to hold an advantage over the mages. Whether or not we gain anything with the Bull's Chargers will not be so important, so long as we can ensure Redcliffe's safety for the Herald."

Ahnnie said nothing as the matter was then decided. What followed was merely the deliberations on logistics, supplies, and routes. She only stayed long enough to finish her spiced wine; when even that was done, she interrupted Leliana to be excused from the room. "I'm still a bit tired from the journey," she said, "and I'm not feeling all that well, either."

A Chantry sister showed her to a guest room a moment later, as the blizzard was still going strong through the town. Ahnnie couldn't care less. She threw off her coat the moment she was alone and crashed down onto the bed for a much needed slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to fix the total number of templars + Inquisition in the previous chapter from 17 to 15 after doing a recount. Remind me never to do math late at night again.
> 
> Also - Happy Holidays!


	11. The Iron Bull

_Only one day to recuperate in Haven - might as well make the best of it._

It surprised even her, but she willingly went to Corporal Hargrave first thing in the morning to get polearms lessons out of the way. The talk in the Chantry wasn't anything she cared to listen to; Knight-Captain Denam was being interrogated, and all anyone seemed to think about was the mysterious Elder One. It was this Elder One who had corrupted the templars, and it was he who threatened to destroy the Seekers. _He m_ _ight as well be aiming to bring the sky down,_ Ahnnie thought. Upon mentioning the sky, she thought of the Breach - _I don't suppose he has something to do with it too?_ That didn't seem unlikely, given the other conspiracies discovered in the Seeker headquarters.

She stumbled a while later into the Singing Maiden, determined not to let this invisible Elder One ruin her day. It was still daytime, despite the cloud covered sky outside, so there were no patrons yet in the tavern. Ahnnie doubted there would be any today; the snowstorm was over, but there was no knowing if it would pick up again. Netta was the first person to notice her, as she was playing in the empty dining area with three yipping furballs.

"You've returned!" the little girl cheered, racing for Ahnnie. But a puppy swerved in her direction, causing her to trip.

Ahnnie gasped and jumped forward to catch the child in her arms. "Be careful!" she chided as she raised Netta to her feet. "If you run, they run too." As if on cue, a tiny puppy the size of a chihuahua started chewing on her boot, yanking wildly at the leather.

Netta found it amusing and scooped the puppy into her arms. "Look!" she exclaimed. "This is Charley! Say hello to the Herald of Andraste, Charley!"

Charley did so by panting and sticking out his tongue. Ahnnie laughed and scratched the puppy behind the ears, delighting in the cottony texture of his baby fur. He was a dusty brown color with a spot of white on his left ear; she noticed he might grow to have pointed ears later, as the right one was sticking straight up while the left was folded halfway. Before she could get a closer look, Charley turned his head to give her fingers a playful nibble, which alternately tickled and stung from his sharp teeth.

"And then this is Maiden, and that's Pepper!"

Netta let Charley down to point out his littermates. Maiden was a sleek female pup with dark brown fur, so dark it was almost black, and dainty white sock markings on her feet; Pepper, a thickset male with wild straw-colored fur interspersed with a timber undercoat. It was almost hilarious how different each pup was from the other. Ahnnie could see how their facial structure and eyes might resemble their mother, but their motley coloring and Pepper's long, floppy ears whereas Maiden and Charley had pointed ones made them seem like different dogs altogether.

Unable to resist, Ahnnie bent down and beckoned to them with kissy noises and wiggling fingers. "C'mere, babies! D'aww, who's a good boy? Who's a good girl? You guys are!"

In the blink of an eye, all three ran over to her, catching her fingers in their mouths and jumping into her lap to bite the fur edge of her coat. She let out a shriek and tumbled backwards, closing her eyes as the puppies fell along and started licking her face. Charley then yanked on her hair while Pepper stuck his nose through it to sniff her ear; every little action made her laugh harder, and she squealed with delight as she caught hold of Maiden, hugging the squirming pup close as she turned onto her side.

 _It's been way too long since I've last done this!_ She then swore to spend as much time as possible with them when she next returned to Haven. _They won't be this small for long, and I'm not sure Flissa wants Lady giving them younger siblings._

Netta laughed and joined in, tickling Ahnnie's open side with her childish fingers. The pups then diverted their attention to her, and Maiden was finally able to kick free to join her brothers. It gave Ahnnie the opening she needed to sit up and wheeze out the last of her mirth.

"Netta, what's all the noise about?" Ahnnie half-expected Flissa to emerge from the stairway, but it was Nala instead. "Oh, your ladyship-"

"Yes, I'm back," Ahnnie smiled, rising breathlessly to her feet. "But only for a day; I have to travel out to the Storm Coast first thing in the morning."

"Aww," Netta pouted, a puppy tugging on her shawl. "But you were away for so long! You missed First Day!"

She gave her an apologetic smile. "I know. Inquisition business, though. I'll be back soon, and hopefully for longer. And who knows - if a blizzard makes the roads impassable, I might not have to go so soon." _That would be nice. Oh Maker, or whoever you are, please make a blizzard to delay the trip, at least for another day..._ Then, noticing the bowl in Nala's hands, she asked, "Tending to patients up there?"

The elven girl trotted down the steps and jumped merrily off the last one. "A few guests have employed Master Adan's services. Mostly winter illnesses; colds, fevers, agues." She shrugged. "Nothing serious."

Netta stopped pouting to giggle slyly. "But last week, she panicked over a handsome soldier with a head cold-"

Nala spluttered and blushed, almost dropping the bowl in her consternation. "N-Netta!"

Ahnnie raised her eyebrows. "Ooh, Netta, do tell!"

Nala whirled from Netta to Ahnnie in a frenzied turn. "O-oh, your ladyship, 'twas nothing! Really! Pay no attention to Netta - she's merely jesting!"

The both of them laughed at Nala's expense. But deciding to be merciful, Ahnnie stopped sooner than Netta did. "Okay," she breathed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, "I was just playing with you. Still, what's this about a handsome soldier? Did you catch someone's eye, Nala?"

"Of course not, your ladyship!" the elf protested. "I am very plain, as you can see."

Some of the fun died away at this self-deprecation, so Ahnnie rephrased the question. "Did someone catch _your_ eye?"

Nala's cheeks bloomed redder. "I believe Netta is referring to the soldier from the Storm Coast. He arrived in town some time ago."

"Last week," Netta reminded her, much to her distress.

Ahnnie blinked, remembering what Leliana said. "Is his name Cremisius Aclassi, by any chance?"

"That'd be me."

All three girls turned their heads in unison to find a brawny young man coming down the stairs. _Whoa,_ Ahnnie thought. _He_ is _handsome._ Cremisius possessed a firm-jawed oval face and dark hooded eyes, set against a complexion of ruddy olive skin - if this weren't Thedas, he could have been an athletic male model. She could tell why Nala might panic over him; she herself felt her cheeks warm when he turned his gaze over to her. Something seemed off with his voice, though, kind of like it was still going through puberty and hadn't yet dropped in tone. Ahnnie dismissed it, figuring it was just an individual quality. _Or is he really that young? He doesn't look like it..._

Netta giggled. "It's him!"

"Netta!" Nala cried, turning her head aside when Cremisius looked at her.

The corner of his mouth turned up in an amused smirk before he finally reached the bottom of the steps. Almost immediately, the puppies swarmed over his feet, excited by the presence of another person in the room. He gave out a hearty laugh before telling Netta to get Flissa for a beer. "Nothing better than sitting before a fire with a good mug on a cold winter's day," he said, watching the little girl run into the kitchen.

At that, Nala jolted. "Would you like for me to stoke the fire? It's gotten rather low."

"Please," he nodded.

The elven girl put the bowl on the table and jumped to it, jabbing at the logs with the fireplace poker in an attempt to raise the flames. While she was thus occupied, Ahnnie found herself uncomfortably alone with Cremisius. All of a sudden, she was conscious of everything she did, even the littlest twitch of her fingers. When the silence became unbearable, she made an attempt at a casual remark: "Those puppies...are real cute, huh?"

"Ha, yeah," he agreed, giving them a cursory look. Then his eyes were back on her. "So, you're the Herald?"

"That's right," Netta answered for her, skipping back into the dining area while a serving girl handed the young man his beer.

"Care for a drink?" Cremisius then asked, settling into a chair by the fireplace.

"Oh..." Ahnnie looked at the door, then at Cremisius. "I'd love to, but I've got to get ready for tomorrow. 'Cause I'm leaving for the Storm Coast...tomorrow."

"I'm sure you could spare some time. I'm going too, you know."

Ahnnie put a hand to her forehand, laughing nervously. "Right! How could I forget? So silly of me."

In the end, she was convinced to sit for a spell, though she didn't drink. Nala was called up by Master Adan, leaving them more or less alone; Netta still played with the puppies behind them, her squeals and their yips sounding out occasionally in the background.

"I'm Ahnnie, by the way," Ahnnie began. "I'd prefer if you could call me that instead of 'Herald'."

"Fair enough," Cremisius nodded.

She gave him a moment of silence to enjoy his beer, staring awhile into the flames. When he said nothing, however, she got a little fidgety and turned away from the fireplace. "So, uh," she began, "you're from the Bull's Chargers mercenary company? Did I say it right?"

"Yup."

"Cool. I mean, great. What're they like?"

Cremisius took another swig and let out a sigh of satisfaction after he swallowed. "We're loyal, we're tough, and we don't break contracts," he said. "I guarantee we're the best you'll find. Ask around Val Royeaux; we've got references."

She chuckled. "Well, I would have done that, if we were still there. But of course, Leliana might, 'cause it's not too late to...ask for references. I mean, we're still going to the Storm Coast anyway, so..." _God, I'm so lame! Pull yourself together, girl!_ "Ahem, yeah. What about your commander? What's he like?"

"Iron Bull? He's one of those Qunari. You know - the big guys with the horns?"

"I know about them," she nodded.

"He leads from the front, he pays well, and he's a lot smarter than the last bastard I worked for." Cremisius grinned. "Best of all, he's professional. We accept contracts with whoever makes the first real offer; you're the first time he's gone out of his way to pick a side."

Ahnnie tilted her head, intrigued. "Really? Why would he do that?"

"Iron Bull wants to work for the Inquisition," the young man explained. "He thinks you're doing good work."

 _So did Madame Vivienne, when she asked to join. And Sera, too._ It then occurred to her, though it really should have much sooner, that people were starting to believe in the Inquisition. _How many more will ask to join with us?_ she wondered, thinking about their most recent allies and the request from the mages in Redcliffe. Very soon, the Inquisition might no longer be the little foundling organization it originally was. _That's going to take some getting used to._ And to think it all started with an angry Seeker in the Chantry's council room...

Was it just her, or was she getting a little sentimental?

"Well then, the Inquisition can't wait to meet him," Ahnnie replied at length, smiling.

* * *

 

They set off from Haven in the small hours of the morning: Cassandra, Ahnnie, Solas, Varric, Sera, and Blackwall, with Cremisius Aclassi.

The more Ahnnie learned about the Iron Bull, the more she looked forward to meeting with his company. She had never seen a Qunari before - from what little she knew, she imagined them to be big, minotaur-like people, with a bull's head and hooves. What little illustrations that were available from books in the Chantry library didn't do them justice in her opinion, and there was that nagging suspicion that the illustrators weren't aiming for accuracy. It felt awkward to ask such specific questions about Iron Bull's appearance, however, and she didn't want to come across as offensive, so she opted to leave Cremisius alone in that respect and wait until she actually saw the Qunari commander for herself.

Instead, she inquired more about Iron Bull as a person. In addition to what Cremisius told her in the tavern, Iron Bull was not only fair but daring, humorous, and a natural charismatic leader. His people liked him and were loyal for more than just the pay. He actually listened to them, rather than flaunting his status as commander. And he treated them like family, braving danger for their sakes and looking after them as if they were his own. In fact, he lost his left eye saving Cremisius' life.

"In case you didn't know, I'm from Tevinter. I was soporati - not a slave or a mage, just a regular citizen. Even citizens have it rough if they're not mages, though. I was a soldier, but women join the ranks under a different program. When they found out I was passing, it got ugly. I ran, hid out in a border town tavern...then a tribune and his men found me out. They meant to make an example of me. The guards had me on the floor when Bull came inside and yelled for them to stop. One of them saw trouble coming and figured he'd finish me off. The guard had a flail; Bull put himself between me and the blow. Gave up his eye doing that. Big horned idiot...didn't even know me." Cremisius shook his head. "Then he patched me up and asked if I was looking for work. I've been putting up with his jokes ever since; not a life I'd wish on everyone, but it'll do."

The story was a touching one, and Ahnnie was in more awe of this Qunari commander than she had been previously. It was not an easy thing to give up an eye for a stranger, after all. It was also from there that Ahnnie discovered why Cremisius' voice seemed off to her. "They don't make it easy for women in the Tevinter army?"

"Women are allowed to serve, but only in certain ranks and disciplines," he explained. "I was up for promotion, but the healer I'd bribed to sign off my physical had to tend a sick magister. When the replacement healer saw what was, or wasn't, in my pants, he made threats. It was slavery or death, so I knocked him out and ran."

She nodded, eyes thoughtful. "If you don't mind my asking...why did you decide to live as a man? You're not in the army anymore, and..."

Cremisius' voice hardened. "I didn't decide anything. I've been like this my whole life. My parents wanted me to marry up; they tried to find me a nice merchant's son. Every day I'd put on a dress, look into my father's shaving mirror and just...hate myself."

Hearing the pain in his voice, Ahnnie was immediately regretful. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like I was...being presumptuous. It must have been difficult with your family thinking a certain way, against your wishes."

"You can say that again," Cremisius agreed with a dry laugh. "My mother wanted to throw me out. She said if I didn't marry well, I was dooming the family to slavery. She was happy to take the money I sent as a soldier, though. Not that it mattered in the end. My father..." His eyes softened. "When I was little, he'd angle his mirror down so I could pretend to shave, just like him. He never said anything, but I think he knew."

Then she learned of how Cremisius' father, once a tailor, was driven out of business when a magister's slaves mass produced peasant clothing and sold them for next to nothing. Having no way to compete with such low prices, he was forced to sell himself into slavery. "He's one of the servus publicus, the Imperium-owned slaves, now."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, suddenly thinking of her own father. "I hope you get to meet him again, someday."

The young man shrugged. "It's been a while, so not very likely. Don't even know if he's still alive." Noticing the sorrow in her eyes, he asked, "Does it matter to you that much?"

Ahnnie let out a sigh, watching it vaporize in the snowy air until it faded into nothing. "I just think that, well, with family you can still identify with...those who really care..." She shrugged. "They should be kept close. And I wish everyone could have that chance."

"Huh, yeah... _hachoo!_ "

"Are you all right?"

Cremisius held a finger to the bottom of his nose and sniffed. "I'm fine. It's just the cold."

* * *

 

Winter on the Storm Coast was rainy and soggy. Then again, as Varric told her, the Storm Coast had always been rainy and soggy; hence its name.

"The air is nice," Sera chirped from her saddle, drawing incredulous stares from some of the others. "What?" she asked. "It is."

"You're weird," Ahnnie teased with a mock shake of her head. "It's _miserable_ out here." The only thing of interest was that there were old Dwarven ruins dotting the coast. According to both Solas and Varric, anyway. She'd yet to see one. _Do_ _those pillar things sticking out of the ground count as ruins? Or are they just regular rock formations?_

"I've got a friend who's a ship captain," Varric remarked. "She would love this place."

"Yeah, see that?" Sera said, pointing at Varric. "I'm not the only one."

"Okay, okay," Ahnnie conceded. "But just saying. You're the last person I'd think who would compliment all this..." She shook some water off of her hood. "...rain." She grimaced. "You're right, Varric; there's nothing worse than being wet and cold on horseback. I mean, I'm not drenched, but...ugh."

The dwarf simply chuckled in return. She was glad to see him happy, though; ever since he learned about what happened in the Seeker headquarters, he'd been very grim, particularly when it came to red lyrium. Knight-Captain Denam's interrogation hadn't gone all that great, no thanks to his deepening red lyrium withdrawal. That only served to exacerbate Varric's convictions, and it was with a heavy heart that he had disclosed to her how red lyrium drove his brother to madness. "Like I said, don't ever touch it. The stuff's pure evil. And with the templars on it..." He shook his head.

They turned up a bend in the path that took them up a hill. Within a few minutes, their horses trotted up to a camp situated on a level yet pebbly ground. Inquisition forces welcomed them, and a familiar female dwarf came forward to address Ahnnie. "Herald! For what it's worth, welcome to the Storm Coast."

Ahnnie dismounted from her Forder. "Nice to see you again, Harding," she greeted back. "Can't say I like the Storm Coast, though." The others around her dismounted as well to take shelter from the rain, and Ahnnie followed Harding beneath a tarp canopy as a soldier led the horses away.

"I would have sent word sooner, but our efforts have been...delayed," Harding said, slicking back a strand of rain dampened hair from her forehead.

"How so?" Ahnnie asked.

"There's a group of bandits operating in the area," the dwarven scout explained. "They know the terrain, and our small party has had trouble going up against them. Some of our soldiers went to speak with their leader. Haven't heard back, though."

That didn't sound good. Without the soldiers, they wouldn't be able to leave for Redcliffe with the force as planned. "I'll tell Cassandra about it," she said. "I'm sure she'll want us to do what we can to find our people." _Maybe if things go well with the Bull's Chargers, they can help us out._

"Thank you," Harding smiled. "That's a relief."

She told the Seeker as promised while the others were warming up under similar canopies, beneath which burned small yet bright fires. Cassandra nodded knowingly and answered just as Ahnnie wanted her to. "We must help our soldiers; these bandits sound troublesome."

"Harding said they didn't know where the bandits were, exactly, but were searching farther down the beach." As she continued to speak, her eyes turned to Cremisius. "I was thinking the Bull's Chargers could help us with that. They've been in the Storm Coast awhile, and probably know the place better than we do. Plus, they'll give us more people to fight with."

Cremisius grinned back at her, pleased by this suggestion.

Cassandra blinked and stared at her for a few moments. "That is very strategic of you. You are...getting better at this."

Ahnnie shrugged and struggled to suppress the warmth spreading on her cheeks. Was this a bit of praise from the Seeker? It wasn't as if she couldn't think of something like that...then again, it was probably the first time she didn't simply ask Cassandra for the next course of action. "Thanks, I guess."

"Let me know when we head out," Cremisius then said, his eyes bright. "Can't wait to meet up with the chief again, and to start cracking some bandit skulls. It's been far too long."

* * *

 

"The Waking Sea," Varric murmured. "Somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall."

Sera shielded her eyes as she peered out over the crashing waves. "Can't even see the other shore. That's...far." She sniffed. "I smell seaweed. How do I know seaweed?"

"Maybe 'cause it smells salty and...weedy."

"Ha! Good one," Sera laughed, clapping Ahnnie on the back.

She cringed from the force of Sera's hand and gave the elf a half-stinted smile. Walking in the rain wasn't any better, she soon discovered. The air was cold and wet, and the salt smell of the sea even more pungent than it seemed on a normal day. _In short...I hate rain._

"This is where the Bull's Chargers are?" Blackwall asked Cremisius, looking out over the gray landscape.

"Don't sweat it," the young man assured him. "Even if they've moved camp, they'll have left a sign to let me know. Us Chargers are resourceful."

"Hmm." Cassandra looked about them. "I can't imagine this an ideal place to camp, not unless you were part of a landing party."

"Tevinter mercenaries," Cremisius grinned. "We wanted to surprise them."

 _Mercenaries versus mercenaries,_ Ahnnie thought, idly. _Who would win?_

The question would be answered when they came up to an outcropping of rock on the beach. Beyond it echoed the sounds of fighting; Cremisius unsheathed his sword when he saw who the combatants were. "All right! They found the bloody Vints! Ha, and there's the chief, if I ever saw him!"

Ahnnie peered over the rock to try to see where Cremisius was pointing. She saw a big pair of horns, wide and prong-shaped like a giant angus cow's, swinging above the press of strangely dressed people ( _the 'Vints', I think_ ), but a wagonful of barrels blocked the rest of him from view. "So, then-" But when she turned around to address Cremisius, the Charger had already disappeared. Sera fell into his place a moment later, an arrow aimed down on a Tevinter mercenary.

"Slowpokes don't cut it," the elf told her as she loosed the arrow. It struck the mercenary clean through the thigh, bringing him down to his knees.

Ahnnie grinned. "Right." She withdrew the glaive from her back and slid forward on the rock, landing with a pebbly flourish onto the graveled ground below. Before the mercenary could attempt to recompose himself, she dealt him a swinging blow on the back of his head with the blunt edge of her glaive's blade. _I think that's strong enough to keep him out for a bit,_ she thought, watching him fall limply on his face. _And i_ _t'll help dull the pain for him temporarily._ Sera's arrow went in pretty deep, after all.

She ducked behind the wagon of barrels a moment later when an enemy arrow landed on the ground by her feet. With a careful look out, she saw the archer aiming from behind the cover of a fallen white tree near the water, watching the wagon for any sign of movement. When he found none, he turned his attention to new targets. She took that chance to dash out, heading for the nearest point of cover. An icy missile flew past her back, freezing a Tevinter swordsman mid-swing and leaving him open for the more plainly dressed Chargers to hack him down.

"Watch out!" Ahnnie cried, pushing Varric aside. The arrow missed him by a long shot anyway, but it brought the hidden archer into focus.

"Thanks," the dwarf nodded at her. "We should do something about him," he then pointed out after firing a shot at another mercenary.

"You take him on the front while I go around back?" she asked, noting the open path round the fallen tree.

Varric grinned. "Just what I was thinking. Cassandra's right; you _are_ getting better at this stuff."

She tried to ignore his almost sarcastic tone as she headed around the tree's trunk. If there was anything she learned from past combat experience, it was that there was no time for nervous dilly-dallying. Decisions had to be made on the spot, and they had to have strategic merit; both for her own personal survival, and the success of her team. _I seem to have the most luck with archers,_ she thought dryly, remembering the ones in the Hinterlands.

The dwarven rogue jumped atop the overturned hull of a boat the archer was kneeling on, shooting out with an arrow from Bianca. The stunned man loosed the bigger arrow nocked in his bow, sending it in a wild ricochet against the branches of the white tree as he turned. The arrow zipped past Ahnnie's face, slicing into her cheek with a horizontal gash as she came up from the boat's other side.

She shut her eyes upon feeling the arrow's impact, but shook it off as best as she could. While Varric kept the man occupied with well-timed kicks and punches, Ahnnie shot in from behind with an angry slice from her glaive followed by a whirling stab from the bladed end. The archer dropped the dagger he had been ready to strike out with, and Ahnnie pulled him back so Varric could send a final arrow through his chest before the both of them knocked the dead body into the shoreline below.

"Shit, you all right?" he asked when he saw the blood dripping from her face. Ahnnie just shook her head as she bent down amongst the white branches to peer at the battle beyond. It seemed to have already turned in the Charger's favor even before their arrival, but Cassandra and Blackwall were making good progress against some mercenary swordsmen while Solas' ice magic bought them an advantage, as always. Interestingly enough, there was also magic shooting out at the Tevinters from a different angle, meaning the Chargers had a mage on their side. _Don't these Tevinters have mages too?_ she wondered as she scanned their ranks. Oh well - all the better for the Inquisition and Chargers.

"Well, I'm going to keep aim from up here," Varric said. "Keep 'em confused about who's on whose side."

"Good idea," she breathed, and slid down from the boat to sneak back into the fray.

She crept up behind a mercenary on Cassandra's side, slicing through his whitish-grey uniform with a swipe to his flank. He whirled around met her glaive with his blade, parrying and stabbing in a series of movements that were different from what she was used to seeing. She kept up as best as she could, all the while wondering whether the Tevinter's motions were an example of foreign swordplay. It was formal, disciplined, and well-measured...and it was not so interesting anymore when it threatened to break through her defense, forcing her feet back on the pebbly beach.

But before she could assume the worst, a giant hammer crashed into the mercenary's body, sending him through the air like a weightless rag doll. She gaped in shock at the flying man, watching him spin out into the shoreline, then up at the large shadow cast over her.

With one powerful swipe, the hulking gray giant before her dashed the remaining line of mercenaries aside with his great battlehammer. When a few more mercenaries got brave and tried to charge him, he lowered his head and rammed into them with his horns, throwing them aside with a wild toss like an agitated bull in the rodeo. Seeing the Tevinters now pushed into a pitiful state, he held up his arm and let out an echoing bellow: "Chargers, stand down!"

Though not immediately, the Chargers slowed their attacks until, like clockwork, the last of them stopped and regrouped towards the giant. There were not many enemies left for them anyway, beyond the wounded and the fleeing. If the Inquisition hadn't arrived, they would have taken care of the mercenaries in due time; they were more numerous than the Inquisition's smaller party, outnumbering them by perhaps two to one. But they tolerated the Inquisition's presence nonetheless, sending curious glances at the new party.

"Krem, how'd we do?" the gray giant barked, looking out across the beach towards an exhilarated Cremisius.

"Five or six wounded, chief," the young man barked back. "No dead."

The giant chuckled, a deep and throaty sound. "That's what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks." When he turned back around to look down at Ahnnie, he found the girl's stare frozen on him, as though she'd been struck by one of Solas' ice bolts. "Hey." He waved a big hand in front of her face. "You in there?"

Ahnnie shut her open mouth and put a hand to her cheek. "Uh, I'm sorry," she stammered a moment later, "I just..."

He chuckled good-naturedly, and then noticed the green on her hand. "Well, if it isn't the Herald herself. Glad you could make it." With a jarring clap to the back, he steered her towards the Chargers. "Come on, have a seat; drinks are coming."

* * *

 

The Iron Bull was beyond her imagination. If she thought dwarves and elves were strange when she first saw them, the Qunari sitting before her was a completely different story.

Even when sitting, he towered over everybody, putting his overall height at around seven or eight feet. He had no bull's head or hooves, but was a massive rendition of the human body with great, sloping shoulders and a gigantic torso twice the size of the biggest bodybuilder's. He exposed plenty of it, wearing nothing but a large pair of baggy pants fixed above his waist and what looked like a shoulder strap with a leather chest harness. His face seemed the most normal part of his body, sporting angular, Arabic features and a stubbly beard on the elegantly pointed chin. Of course, she couldn't forget the eye patch - Cremisius' story came back to mind as soon as she laid eyes on it.

But it was the horns that fascinated her most. Dark and bony, they jutted emphatically from the skin at his forehead, altering the upper part of his skull to an upside-down triangle shape. How they didn't weigh him down was a mystery; if she held out her arms and bent them upwards, then the horns would be around the length of her upper arms, but with a much bulkier width. The rest of his head looked small in comparison; perhaps that was why his neck and shoulders were so large, and in turn, the rest of his body.

All in all, Ahnnie couldn't believe she was staring at a real living being. Part of her tried to explain it away as some intricate trick of costumes and makeup, for how could anyone be so big? And horned? But whenever she looked at him again, saw the rain-slicked skin patterned with scars, veins, and muscles, too detailed to be crafted, she knew it was no trick. It was real - _he_ was real.

"I assume you know Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant," said the Qunari as Cremisius came forward with a handkerchief for her.

Ahnnie took it gratefully and put it up to her wound.

"Good to see you again, chief," Cremisius nodded at Iron Bull. "Throatcutters are done."

"Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem," he chuckled.

"None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?" Cremisius asked as he turned and walked away.

Iron Bull chuckled again and shook his head. "Ah, that kid..." Then he returned his attention to her. "So...you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it...and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us."

"Oh, I'm not sure I can speak for all the, uh, Inquisition," she stammered, heart practically stopping at the word 'expensive'. "It's not my money to...well, dispense..."

"It wouldn't cost you anything personally, unless you wanna buy drinks later," he put in. "Your ambassador - what's her name - Josephine? We'd go through her and get the payments set up."

"Okay..."

"The gold will take care of itself," he assured her. "Don't worry about that. All that matters is we're worth it."

 _I hope Cassandra and Josephine think so. Not that I don't, but...expensive..._ she hated that word. _Well, they_ are _mercenaries. They have to make a living too. Hopefully, they won't be any of those purse-bleeders Josephine talked about._

"The Bull's Chargers seem like an excellent company," she said at length, and meant it.

"They are," Iron Bull agreed. "But you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I'm your man. Whatever it is - demons, dragons? The bigger the better." Then he paused. "There's one other thing; might be useful, might piss you off."

Ahnnie wondered what it was. _If anyone's getting pissed off though, it's most likely Cassandra._

He made her even more curious when he gestured for her to rise and follow him to a more secluded spot down the beach. "Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?" he asked once they were well out of earshot.

She frowned, thinking. "No, I haven't."

"It's a Qunari order," he explained. "They handle information, loyalty, security; all of it. Spies, basically. Or, well, _we're_ spies."

Ahnnie blinked. "Huh?"

"The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach," Iron Bull went on. "Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also _get_ reports from Ben Hassrath agents all over Orlais," he quickly added. "You sign me on, I'll share them with your people."

She felt as though he had bashed a pair of cymbals over her head. "You're a spy, and you're telling me all this?" she asked incredulously, mixed feelings swirling in her stomach. _What would Cassandra think?_ _Or Leliana? And I suggested for the Chargers to help_ _us_...She squeezed the handkerchief now down at her side. _Dear god, what have I done-_

Iron Bull met her skeptical eyes with a determined look. "Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it's bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I'm on your side."

"You...you still could have kept that part to yourself," she pointed out, frowning. "So why...?"

He raised an eyebrow. "From something called the Inquisition? Heh. I'd've been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me."

 _True._ But she was still apprehensive. What did he stand to gain from being so open? Their trust, surely, and if they trusted him too much..."I hope you don't mind if I ask some more questions," she said at length.

"No, go on," he nodded.

"What would you send in your reports to the Ben-Hassrath?"

To his credit, his answers were forthcoming and flowed easily. "Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that'll compromise your operations," he promised. "The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you're doing, it'll put some minds at ease. That's good for everyone."

 _Oh, yay. A Qunari invasion._ Led by more horned giants like him, all over Thedas. _That's reassuring!_ "What about the reports you'd give us?"

"Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip..." He shrugged his great shoulders. "It's a bit of everything. Alone, they're not much, but if your spymaster is worth a damn, she'll put 'em up to good use."

"Oh, you know Leliana?"

Iron Bull chuckled. "I did a little research. Plus, I've always had a weakness for redheads."

 _I guess if he knows Josephine, then he knows Leliana..._ She frowned, thinking over what he said. His being a spy for a totally different organization didn't seem appetizing, but his promise of reports from that same organization did. Then there were the Inquisition soldiers they wanted to rescue from the bandits; it wasn't as if they were desperate for reinforcements, but the Chargers might prove to be an invaluable addition. "I have to discuss this with Cassandra," she said. "I'll be right back."

It was with nervous anticipation that Ahnnie walked back down the beach to meet with the Seeker. Part of her wished she could stop playing charades and just let Cassandra talk to the Qunari already, but Iron Bull had been adamant that it be the Herald he spoke with. Something about dealing with the marked one herself; perhaps he wanted to know what she was like, or wanted to gain as much of an advantage as possible against a greenhorn. Regardless of what it was, his mention of the Ben-Hassrath left a sour taste in her mouth.

After much deliberation, Cassandra finally reached a decision. When Ahnnie returned to the Iron Bull, it was to say this: "You run your reports past Leliana before sending them, and you send nothing she doesn't approve. If this turns out to be a trick, or if your reports compromise the Inquisition, you will have to answer to Seeker Cassandra." Basically, Cassandra's threatening words rendered to mush in her not-so-threatening voice.

The Iron Bull cracked a smile, surprising her yet again. "Wouldn't have it any other way." With a look back at the others on the beach, he shouted, "Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!"

"What about the casks, chief?" Krem shouted back. "We just opened them up. With axes!"

"Find some way to seal them," he ordered. "You're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic."

"Very funny, chief!"

"Our camp is not too far away," Ahnnie put in. "You could bring the casks back there. I don't know if Cremisius told you yet, but we'll need your help pretty soon against some bandits in the area."

"Even better," Iron Bull grinned, and clapped her on the back again.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."


	12. Meet the Chargers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Happy Asian New Year! Sorry for taking a while. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> And, irrelevant, but...anyone notice how the bald man in Split looks a bit like Solas? No? Just me? Mmkay...

He strode towards the palisade, taking measured steps on the rocky path ahead of him. Rain drizzled through the treetops, splattering him lightly in the face and blonde hair. As he neared the wooded gates, he could hear the guards smirking upon recognizing the crest around his neck.

"Someone's come with a challenge?"

"The others failed."

He ignored their jibes and pressed on as they opened the gate. Skulls embedded in the dirt grinned up at him, trophies of past conquests...gruesome reminders of the others who failed.

Not that this was going to faze him.

He entered the little fort within, a grassy space occupied by hastily built wooden structures and muddy paths laid over with planks. To the far right, one of those paths led up to an ornately painted boulder flanked on both sides by grim, dark blue banners. Before the boulder stood a man in dark leathers. The leader. Prominent features, a pretty big nose, with hair and beard as blonde as his own...

"So you would challenge the Blades of Hessarian?" the leader demanded, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Hmm," he grunted.

A bit of silence..."Well? Any more to add to that?"

"Hmm."

Bushy brows furrowed, pinching the bridge of the great nose. A rough hand caressed the slick handle of a hatchet, conveniently perched on the left hip. "No last words? Nothing?"

He met the Hessarian leader's scrutiny with a level gaze of his own. "Hmm."

"Well then..." The hatchet came free and spun in deft hands. "Your funeral!"

Faster than he could imagine, its edged blade swerved dangerously close to his chest, forcing him back in a last minute jump. On instinct, he reached for his sword and drew in the nick of time to block another incoming hack. The Hessarian leader had no other weapons or even a shield, but moved with confidence and deadly speed.

He parried the hatchet and thrust his blade for the leader's chest; the hatchet pulled a feint and chopped precariously close to his forearm. He drew back and swiped out with his left foot while also swinging his sword in the opposite turn, coming close to the Hessarian's torso. It took the leader by surprise for a moment, but he recovered balance quickly and struck out with a forward arm. The swordsman parried it easily and blocked a punch coming on his open side.

Something felt wrong. Why only a hatchet? It seemed counterintuitive that someone with so much to lose would be sparsely armed; an overabundance of confidence maybe, either well-earned or woefully misplaced...or a trick up the sleeve.

The sword began to read the hatchet's patterns, putting the bearded Hessarian on the defensive. At that point, it was confirmed that something _was_ wrong. Where anyone would have been worried, the Hessarian leader was smug...smiling, even.

Two fingers pushed under through beard, into the mouth. With a mighty puff, a shrill whistle escaped the lips, ringing sharply into the air.

And then barks...

Dogs _._

The swordsman turned around, alerted by heavy footfalls running up from behind him. He turned back again as the Hessarian leader pulled away and laughed.

"Have fun with my Mabari war hounds! I must warn you, though; they play rather rough."

A great, barrel-chested canine, half the height of a full grown man, made the last few strides before jumping onto the back of its new victim. With a vicious snarl, it dove for his neck, hot slobbery breath spilling down his skin. He fell forward onto the planked path and hit his chin on the wood. Before the Mabari's teeth could connect with his skin, he spun around in an effort to dislodge it and beat the side of its head with his sword's pommel. The cursed thing was armored from head-to-back with custom cut leather armor, though; if anything, the act served to enrage rather than discourage it. And if he was not mistaken, its fellow colleague was quickly catching up to him.

"Grim!"

He blinked and looked away as a wave of heat washed over the Mabari on top of him. The startled hound yelped and leapt off of him instantly, freeing its weight from his shoulders. He coughed and shot up to see the second Mabari also lashed by the flames, grey fur singed and hissing as rain hit the blackened pelt.

The magic could only have come from an elf he knew well. "Now make him regret it!" she yelled, green face tattoos still distinct even through the rain. Behind her, Seeker Cassandra and Cremisius Aclassi were restraining the two Hessarian gate guards.

He clasped his sword's hilt tighter and sprang to his feet. With a quick eye, he spotted the Hessarian leader and bound for him, blade held out in offensive. The hatchet came up in response, quick but desperate. He gave it no chance to retaliate, slashing mercilessly to keep it from regaining composure. Its flustered wielder shrank back with every blow, until at last the little hatchet was tossed from his hands and the sword plunged through leather and guts.

* * *

 

"It is done. If you know what is good for you, tell your people to stand aside and surrender to the Inquisition," Cassandra snarled to the guard she was holding hostage. From outside the fort, Inquisition forces and Chargers alike began filing in. "You have much to answer for the murder of our men."

"Ah, no!" the Hessarian guard gasped. "You'll find no trouble with us-"

As if on cue, one of the other Hessarians inside the fort came up to Grim. "The Blades of Hessarian are at your service, for you have won the challenge. Albeit unfairly," she mumbled.

"Hey, I wouldn't complain if I were you," Iron Bull warned her. "Can't say you extended the same courtesy to us, so how's about we call it even?"

At this, she straightened up in defiance. "The Blades of Hessarian are true to our word; we may have used such tactics against people we suspected, but once we pledge our loyalty, we stand by it even if it's the last thing we do. If you want a reliable set of eyes on the Coast, here we are." The other Hessarians around her nodded in assent, even if they weren't entirely pleased by the turn of events either.

It took a moment for the implication to dawn upon the invading parties. "Maker's balls, Grim!" Cremisius cried. " _You're_ the Hessarian leader now!"

All eyes turned upon the victor. Grim merely sheathed his sword back into its scabbard. "Hmm," he grunted. With a nonchalant air, he walked over to Iron Bull and handed the Mercy's Crest to the Qunari. Then, in a brusque gesture, he waved in the general direction of the Inquisition.

"Not anymore," Iron Bull chuckled, "but that's just as good."

Cassandra thus eased her grip on the guard, although she still kept a wary eye out. As an Inquisition soldier went by, she ordered him to keep a tight watch on the Hessarians and to make sure they didn't get any funny ideas. Not that they would, outnumbered as they were.

"Are the dogs okay?" a young voice asked, concerned. "I heard yelping..."

Ahnnie came through the crowd and looked about the people within. Her hands clutched the pole of her glaive uncertainly, as if she was unsure whether she needed it or not. When she spotted the injured Mabari being tended to by their caretakers, she let out a gasp of horror.

"They'll be fine," the elven mage who dealt them the wounds promised with a friendly hand on her shoulder. "It's just light burns, I assure you." Though there was no doubting she wouldn't have hesitated to go further, had the hounds been more vicious.

From the other side of her, Sera snorted. "We get to the bottom of who's been messing with our people, and all you care about is _dogs_?"

Ahnnie frowned. "They're not just 'dogs' to me, Sera. And there's nothing wrong with caring about people and animals at the same time."

"Wonder what you'd say to that on the other end of their teeth?"

Cassandra cut through the both of them, unamused. "If you are finished arguing, there is work to be done," the Seeker put in. Her hawk eyes landed on Ahnnie. "Come with me. You especially cannot stay idle."

The girl sighed. "Of course..."

* * *

 

At this point, Ahnnie could understand why people drank to take the edge of their nerves.

First, the Chargers started the search for the missing soldiers up to a run-down shack harboring hostile Hessarians. Then after subduing said Hessarians, dead Inquisition soldiers were reported in the shack, the same soldiers who went to investigate the bandits. The subsequent "challenge" was the least of her worries, since she was thankfully not the one chosen to don the Mercy's Crest amulet. But maybe those around her could've eased up on the protectiveness, letting her be a little more useful than someone asking arbitrary questions of the remaining Hessarians alongside Cassandra. Maybe they could've just let her _leave the damn camp_ and follow the others on the previous search. Maybe it should just stop raining so much!

 _I can't wait until we leave this place._ She couldn't even bring herself to say its name. If only they hadn't found the Chargers...maybe it would've been different; if it was just her and her companions again, like before...

But that was stupid, because the Chargers helped them out a great deal. Without them, the Inquisition might not have been able to find the shack in the first place, since the Chargers had been watching the Hessarians' movements for far longer than they were. With an agitated sigh, she shook more rainwater off her dampened hood. _It's this rain,_ she tried to convince herself, but deep down she knew it was another thing entirely.

_Can the Chargers be trusted?_

Perhaps it was stupid to worry about that after having accepted their service...but something in her didn't like the fact that they, or at least their commander, were acting as spies for this 'Ben-Hassrath'. She thought she could put those doubts aside when Cassandra laid out firm conditions to the Iron Bull. But when everyone left her behind at camp earlier in the day, her imagination ran wild and she pictured the Chargers ambushing the Inquisition camp after having dispatched of the companions. And then it would all have been her fault, for even suggesting that the Chargers could help them, for even thinking it could be a good idea-

 _Quit it!_ she chided her own mind. _I worry enough as it is. Why do I have to make this so hard for myself?_ She roughly wiped the raindrops off her face when the wind changed direction and blew them below her hood. _Curse this stupid-_

"Ahnnie, was it?" Cremisius then walked into her path, startling her. "You don't look so great."

"I just hate the rain," she responded, trying not to let her anxiety flare at the sight of him. He brought up mixed feelings, now; first camaraderie, then suspicion.

"I've just the thing for that," the young man winked. "Have a drink with us and get yourself acquainted with the rest of the company. You didn't get to yesterday."

A wry smile crossed her face. "Because the casks spilled out while you were bringing them to the camp," she reminded him.

"Told the chief we should've just emptied them on the beach! And not into the ground, either." He shook his head emphatically. "What a waste of good Tevinter vintage. Te _vint_ er - vintage - that's where the word comes from, did you know that?"

"Oh, no, I didn't..."

He chuckled. "That's the last time we open casks with axes. But these Hessarians've got some of their own, thank the Maker. C'mon, it'll be fun."

 _It_ has _been a while since my last drink..._ and she could always count on the Inquisition soldiers around her...still, she considered refusing, but when she looked into the charismatic face of the young Tevinter, she found herself giving him a timid shrug, followed by her best attempt at a smile; all to keep him from reading her trepidation. "Sure, I guess."

He led her into one of the wooden structures of the Hessarian fort, where a merry blaze was crackling in the middle and a group of people were drying themselves off around it. Two Inquisition soldiers were chatting away to the side, reassuring her somewhat with their presence. At the head of the group round the fire, though, was the Iron Bull, setting off alarm bells in her head all over again.

 _Should I watch what I say around him?_ Ahnnie wondered. Good god, she thought she'd put all that behind when she left Val Royeaux!

The Qunari looked up as she and Cremisius took their seats around the fire. "Ah, good," he boomed, "we're not drinking alone."

Ahnnie winced at the sound of his voice. In these close quarters, its volume echoed uncomfortably in her ears.

"'Course not, chief," Cremisius grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Iron Bull grinned back. "How you doin', _Krem de la Crème_?" he then asked, rather jokingly.

Cremisius' smile went flat in an instant. "I'm so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke," he said dryly to Ahnnie.

All at once, everyone's eyes suddenly seemed to focus on her. In response, she looked down and shrugged uncertainly. "Well, 'Krem' isn't so bad...I mean, it's a handy nickname...is that what he does? Gives you all nicknames?"

"I'm afraid so," Cremisius shook his head. "The chief loves his nicknames."

"Hey, when I was growing up, my name was just this series of numbers," Iron Bull pointed out. "We all give each other nicknames under the Qun."

"They ever wear shirts under the Qun, chief?" Cremisius shot back. "Or do they just run around binding their breasts like that?"

It took Ahnnie a moment before she realized he was talking about the shoulder strap going across Iron Bull's chest. When she did, she pursed her lips tight and lowered her eyes even further, fighting to stifle the oncoming laughter.

But the Iron Bull saw it anyway in the not-so-hidden shake of her shoulders. "It's a harness, Krem."

"Yes, for your pillowy man-bosoms!"

At that, Ahnnie chortled and clamped a hand to her mouth. Despite her effort to hide it, it was evident to those around the fire that she was having a good time at the chief's expense. At last she swallowed it down and looked up to give the Iron Bull a sheepish "Sorry". But by that point, the other Chargers along with Krem already had grins and smirks painted on their faces.

"Let me know if you need help binding. You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look," Krem added, throwing in a mischievous wink for good measure.

His chief was unamused. "Humph," the Iron Bull snorted. With an imperious wave of his hand, he ordered them to "Stop giggling like little girls and get 'er a drink. Can't leave the Herald of Andraste thirsty, now can we?"

"Don't forget me!" Krem shouted after the designated person, the blonde-haired man who'd defeated the Hessarian leader, as he got up to get two cups.

When he returned, Ahnnie found herself nursing a smallish amount of a strong-smelling, amber-colored liquid. Confused, she furrowed her brows. "I don't mean to sound rude, but why'd you give me so little? And what is it?" she decided to add, sniffing at it curiously.

Chuckles echoed from all around the fire. "Just a little whisky," Iron Bull then said. "Why don't you give it a try?"

 _So Thedas has whisky here too?_ Interesting how the names of many things carried over from Earth; or vice versa. But she was not sure of what kind of alcoholic beverage whisky was. She only read of it in books, mainly novels. It smelled very sharp, though. Perhaps it was strong? Was that why she was poured such a small amount? Raising the wooden cup to her lips, she was soon to know...

As soon as the liquid touched her tongue, Ahnnie sprayed the whisky she didn't swallow all over the floor in front of her, exploding into a fit of wild coughs shortly after. Rather than acting concerned, the Chargers laughed, creating a raucous din within the walls of the little shack. When her coughs subsided, she shakily wiped the corners of her mouth, half-incredulous and half-incensed by the mercenaries' merriment. _But Jesus Christ_ _!_ She stared in horror at her cup through watery eyes. _It burns! Hell, it's like straight-up alcohol from the doctor's office!_ Her throat still tingled from the very sensation of it.

Krem gave her two hearty pats on the back, forcing out a new series of weak coughs. "Ah," he sighed, his laughter dying down, "that was priceless. First time downing liquor?"

"I thought-" Cough. "-I thought alcohol and liquor are the same?" Another cough.

"Liquor's distilled," the elven mage from earlier piped up, "but beer and wine are fermented. All are alcohol, just made in different ways."

That didn't really clear things up, but Ahnnie could take from it that liquor had more alcohol than ale. Whisky's fumy essence was much stronger, almost like fire. No wonder they gave her so little. She settled the cup down in her lap and cleared her throat, resolving to leave the drink alone for now.

Iron Bull chuckled again before thankfully changing the subject. "Anyway, here's the rest of the Chargers...or what's left of the rest. A lot of 'em went looking for stronger drinks."

 _There are drinks stronger than whisky?_ Ahnnie couldn't even imagine it.

Pointing at a hooded dwarf and dark-haired elf, the Iron Bull began his round of the group. "We've got Rocky and Skinner there." Then to the other side, where there sat a dark skinned man and the elven mage. "Over there, Stitches and Dalish." Followed by an elongated chuckle, before introducing the man who won them the Hessarians. "Last but not least, Grim." With a proud smile, the Qunari turned back to Ahnnie. "Crazy bunch of assholes, but they're mine."

Somehow, hearing him say that made her feel less guarded. Whether it was because he wasn't yelling for once, or because of the almost fatherly twinkle in his eye, or even as a result of that little swallow of whisky, Ahnnie found herself slowly relaxing. "That's nice," she said at last, though her voice was still a little hoarse. "It's a very diverse group. Not that that's bad," she hurriedly added, lest they took it the wrong way.

"Hey, with a Qunari as chief, what do you expect?" Krem aimed another playful look Iron Bull's way.

But indeed, besides Krem, Stitches and Grim were the only human Chargers sitting at the fire. Ahnnie believed she'd seen a good number of other elves and dwarves mixed into the mercenary company as well. Her interest was then piqued, as it offered her a chance to interact more with the other races of Thedas than she was usually given in the Inquisition; a large majority of its members (or at least, those who had the most contact with her), she realized, were human.

And if she needed more encouragement to do so, Krem nudged her with his elbow. "Go on," he urged. "Say hi. Ask 'em questions. They won't bite." The others chuckled or smirked in response, but their humor felt more palatable this time around.

"Um, Rocky, right?" Ahnnie then asked, turning to the hooded dwarf. It seemed most likely that that would be his name, or so she hoped. "Were you originally from the surface, or Orzammar? If you don't mind my asking?"

It turned out she was right, for he didn't correct her. "Orzammar," Rocky began. "I got exiled. Stupid noble crap. Also, I...accidentally blew up a bit of the Shaperate."

"Ah," she nodded, pretending to know what the Shaperate was. _I'll have to ask Varric later._

"Rocky's one of our best sappers," Iron Bull put in. "He can take down enemy fortifications faster than a golem."

"I'm also working on my own version of Qunari blackpowder," Rocky added, his voice emphatic. "I've _almost_ got it!"

The Iron Bull slowly shook his head. "Yeeaaah...you really don't."

The others snickered at that remark, the loudest one being the elven mage. That mage stood out foremost amongst the Chargers, by virtue of being the one who burned the Mabari hounds. Ahnnie turned her attention there next. "And you're Dalish? Well, I mean, nicknamed 'Dalish' and ethnically Dalish." If so, this was her first time seeing a Dalish elf, especially with face tattoos! She couldn't help wondering what deity they represented?

"That's me," Dalish nodded. Her voice seemed older than it should be, which coupled with an odd bouyancy lent it an almost snarky quality.

"Were you part of a clan?"

"I was - our keeper thought I should see the world a little."

"Dalish don't have templars, so they can't have too many mages in a clan at once," Iron Bull explained, to which Ahnnie nodded, glad to have the extra info.

"Now, _ser_ , you know I'm not a mage!" Dalish protested. The mischievous twinkle in her eye may or may not have been intentional. "That'd make me an apostate."

"You carry a staff, Dalish," Iron Bull reminded her.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, as if they had had this argument one too many times. "It's a _bow._ "

Krem frowned. "A bow with a giant glowing crystal at the tip?"

"It's for aiming." Dalish shook her head at him. "Old elven trick. You wouldn't understand."

Ahnnie couldn't help but giggle at that. She was sure Solas would have plenty to say about this 'old elven trick' and 'bow', if he were present. What a pity he wasn't. She could already imagine him now, giving the eccentric Charger strange looks before saying something deep about magic - _I think Dalish would get along better with Sera. Although I'm not too sure Sera likes magic, craftily renamed or otherwise._

"Stitches is the company healer," Krem said, recapturing her attention with a gesture at the dark skinned man. "As you might've guessed from his _fabulously_ original nickname."

"Hey, at least they're to-the-point," Iron Bull argued.

Ignoring the exchange, Stitches boasted with a solemn sort of pride, "Yes, I am. First time I ever picked up a sword was when the Blight hit Ferelden; never put it back down."

"Of course," Ahnnie acknowledged, "knowing how to fight is a vital skill here...as I've come to realize."

"Then you'll be glad to hear he makes a potion that'll put you right back on your feet after even the toughest fight," said Iron Bull. Then he pulled a face. "It tastes terrible, though."

"That's because it's a _poultice,_ ser," Stitches corrected him. "You're not supposed to drink it. Speaking of poultices-" He turned to Ahnnie. "How's the cheek feeling?"

She instinctively touched the wounded side of her face, a third of which was covered by a sticky bandage. "Um, pretty good. I haven't even noticed it at all today. Your poultice?"

Stitches nodded. "The very same. Remember, don't drink it!"

The others laughed, and Ahnnie couldn't help laughing as well. "Thanks," she said. "I appreciate it."

"Definitely drink more whisky," the dark-haired elf chimed in, raising her own cup. "Drink enough, and 'poof'; you'll feel nothing." With a satisfied smirk, she brought the cup to her lips, gulping down the fiery liquid like it was nothing.

Ahnnie smiled politely at her. "I'll...take my time. Skinner, was it? Are you Dalish too?"

"No," Skinner shook her head. "City elf."

"Oh. How'd you join the Chargers, then?"

She put down her drink and looked into the girl's eyes with an expression of headstrong defiance. "Killed some people," she stated, almost as if daring Ahnnie to find offense with it.

Before the worst could be assumed, Iron Bull gave a clarified account of the story. "Skinner didn't take kindly to nobles testing their new swords on the elves in her alienage. We thought her talents could be put to better use and took her in-"

"Now I get paid to kill shems." Skinner's grin was almost maniacal, and Ahnnie had a feeling that, Herald or no Herald status, the bellicose city elf wouldn't hesitate to target her if the Iron Bull so ordered it.

 _I think I know why her nickname is 'Skinner',_ Ahnnie then thought, shrinking back in her seat a little.

"This is actually really good behavior for her," the Qunari remarked with a roguish smile. "She's not marking her territory or anything."

Skinner chuckled darkly before sipping at her drink again, and Ahnnie averted her eyes elsewhere. They came to rest on Grim, the stoic man who seemed to fear nothing. Surely he didn't, if he volunteered to enter an enemy fort to challenge its leader. Of course, he must've known there were reinforcements to back him up, but that was besides the point. Anything could have happened in that space of time, especially if they never heard the barking of dogs in the first place. She then felt incredibly rude for having ignored him until now; he was just so quiet! "So, uh, Grim? What about you?"

His stony eyes, perpetually drawn into a frown, it seemed, looked away from the fire and up at her. "Hmm," he grunted.

Ahnnie tilted her head in confusion. "Um...excuse me?"

"Hmm."

"Grim doesn't talk much," Iron Bull explained, with a hint of apology. "I'm pretty sure he's the lost king of some small country. Or a chieftain. Something like that."

Grim gave a noncommittal shrug. "Hmm."

 _That's...interesting._ Ahnnie raised the cup to her mouth, before remembering the vile drink inside. She remembered a little too late and gagged a bit on the liquid fire. After a clearance of her throat, she turned to the Iron Bull with as natural a smile as she could muster. "Well, ser..."

"Just call me Bull," he insisted.

"Bull...you've got a nice group about you." She coughed and looked round at the motley crew before her, ending at Krem. "They're, uh...well, they're different," she confessed, "and I honestly wasn't expecting this at first, but..." She shrugged. "They're cool. I mean, great. And they really like you, too. I can see why you care about them so much." _Except maybe for Skinner. She gives me the creeps._

A chorus of "d'awws" arose from the Chargers. "Hush, you're making me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside," Krem joked, nudging her with an elbow again.

As for the Iron Bull, the look on his face was as close to bashful as Ahnnie believed the Qunari could get. He gave a throaty chuckle and shook his head. "Ah, we do all right," he demurred, though there was more than a little pride to be heard in his tone.

From the other side of the fire, a booted foot beat out a steady tempo on the dirt floor. " _Noooo man can beat the Chargers,_ " Rocky slowly began, and the others took up the next line along with him, speeding the notes along until the tune became lively.

 _"_ _'Cause we'll hit you where it hurts._

_Unless you know a tavern_

_With loose cards and looser skirts!"_

"C'mon, sing it with us," Krem urged with yet another nudge.

Ahnnie blushed. "No thanks, I'm not a...good singer...I'll just listen for now." From the slightly reddened complexion on his cheeks, she could tell the whisky had already begun its influence on the young Tevinter.

"Bah! You're no fun!" Krem turned away from her and went back to joining the chorus, now grown more raucous in the second verse.

_"For every bloody battlefield,_

_We'll gladly raise a cup-_

_No matter what tomorrow holds,_

_Our horns be pointing up!_ "

They ended with a splash of laughter and cheering. The shack suddenly became wild with their hoots and shouts, and it felt as though she were in the Singing Maiden again rather than a little wooden structure out on the Storm Coast. Ahnnie smiled along to the revelry, although she declined a refill of her not-so-depleted whisky. "Still working on it," she assured Grim, who gave her a grunt of acknowledgement. Out of politeness, she chanced a tiny sip, grimacing slightly upon feeling its burn.

"Don't push yourself if you don't like it," the Iron Bull said, startling her. She had not been aware that he was watching.

"O-oh, it's fine," she stammered, "I just have to get used to it..."

He shook his head. "Nah, we'll give it another time." Reaching over with his great hand, he tipped the contents of her cup into his own. "There. Now you can impress them with your amazing drinking skills."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "Naw, they'll know; I only took two sips. Maybe a sip and a half?"

"And all the whisky's gone - would you look at that?"

She gave an amused shake of her head. "Oh, no. I got drunk after one mug of ale. If I really finished all that whisky, I might've passed out much sooner."

"Well. Everyone takes it differently." Iron Bull took a swig from his cup. "All jokes aside, don't hesitate to speak up if you're not comfortable about doing something. Y'know, live a little more for yourself. All right?"

Ahnnie nodded thoughtfully. "I will...thanks."

He smiled at her. "Don't mention it."

Just then, an Inquisition soldier ducked her head through the doorway, looking left and right until she caught sight of Ahnnie. "Ah, Lady Herald! You're required back at the camp. We'll be leaving for Redcliffe first thing in the morning, and you've got to prepare. Seeker Cassandra's orders."

"Oh!" Ahnnie got up to her feet, depositing her empty cup with Krem. "I'm coming-"

"Aw, so soon?" Krem protested, though he made no move to return her cup.

"Fun's just getting started!" Dalish added.

Iron Bull heaved himself off his bench and waved dismissively at the Chargers. "We're gonna have to do the same anyway, so don't complain." Turning to Ahnnie, he gave her a hearty pat on the back, albeit much gentler than last time. "Thanks for coming by, boss. Glad you could meet some of my team."

"B-boss?" she stuttered. "No, I'm not-"

"Well, you're part of the Inquisition," he countered, "and who d'you think just hired us?"

She blushed. "Right...well, I'll see you later." With a look back at the rowdy Chargers, she gave them a parting wave. "Bye, guys. Have fun."

They didn't seem to hear her, though, or they did and the resulting yell was a mis-matched chorus of 'byes'; she didn't hear it too clearly as she followed the Inquisition soldier out of the shack. But as she strode through the Hessarian camp, she felt much easier than before about the presence of the Bull's Chargers. _They're not so bad after all...I guess it's nothing to worry about, as long as they follow Cassandra's guidelines._

And God knows, she was already looking forward to their next drinking session.


	13. Redcliffe

The Hinterlands welcomed the Inquisition once again after almost two weeks of drudging winter travel. The icy downpour of the Storm Coast evolved into chilling sleet and eventually, droves of snowflakes, but all that seemed much more bearable to the Herald than rain.

She left the accursed coast feeling a newfound sense of camaraderie with the Chargers, alongside a hint of mourning for the Inquisition soldiers they had lost; on the eve of the journey, funeral pyres burned through the night as a last service to the Hessarians' victims. The rain was luckily not too much of a problem, but the smoke and crackling of the fire haunted her even after the five to six hours it took to finish, and that was not mentioning the smell.

"Why don't we send them home to their families for proper funerals?" she had asked of Harding right before the pyres were to be lit; stacks of dried wood from both Inquisition and Hessarian stores were being sent in as they spoke. "Why burn them here?"

"That's a service we unfortunately can't perform right now," the dwarf had answered remorsefully. "A pyre here is more efficient, gets the bodies off our hands immediately without leaving them to rot on our old campsite. Not to mention their families aren't all from Haven, and we can't spare the men to travel all that way with just corpses. I don't think you'd fancy traveling alongside dead people on the way to Redcliffe either, would you, Lady Herald?"

Ahnnie's face blanched. "I guess not."

An awkward silence settled between them, which Harding sought to alleviate by giving her a sympathetic smile. "It's not always easy, choosing efficiency over ideals. But in this kind of situation, you just gotta do what works. Eventually you just get used to it." After some thought, she added, "We do our best to remember who they are, though, and inform their families afterward."

"It's the thought that counts, I suppose."

Ahnnie couldn't remember what else had been exchanged between her and the dwarf scout, but the burning happened shortly after and she only remembered trying her best to ignore it.

* * *

 

There was plenty to keep her occupied on the road to Redcliffe, though. While some Chargers were dispatched to keep a position on the Storm Coast, the group she drank with plus some others were able to come along, including of course their famous commander.

And his mount of choice? A nuggalope.

A thick, grey beast that looked like a mix between a trunkless elephant and rhinoceros, the nuggalope sported massive curled horns on either side of its head and what appeared to be balled-up hands for front feet. By horse standards, it must at least have been eighteen hands high and was just the perfect thickness to take on the Iron Bull's bulk. As an amusing afterthought, its leathery hide was also the same hue of grey as its rider.

"Want to know what the chief calls it?" Krem asked her after she'd been gawking at the creature for some time.

She snapped out of her reverie to look at him. "What?"

"Oh, you'd never guess: 'Nuggy'." The Tevinter rolled his eyes. " _Very_ original."

"I heard that!" Iron Bull barked in retaliation, making them both laugh.

It certainly drew a lot of attention from the other Inquisition members who had never seen an nuggalope before. Then again, they probably never thought they would see a Qunari sitting astride one. Sera certainly had a lot of fun blowing raspberries and making comments at "the overstuffed pig with horns" as they went along the road, especially after it was given a blanket covering and special boots to protect from the cold.

"Are nuggalopes what Qunari use to ride, kind of like how humans, dwarves, and elves use horses and ponies?" Ahnnie ventured to ask one day.

Iron Bull chuckled. "If you're gonna make another pig joke-"

"Don't worry, that's just Sera," Ahnnie reassured him, smiling.

"Well, the answer's yes and no," he then replied. "We can use draft horses just fine. I could've done that, but I found this nuggalope for a good bargain at a bazaar. So whatever carries us best, I guess. We're generally not a calvary intensive race, though. Don't know if you've heard the stories, but we do a lot of invasion by sea; Dreadnought warships ring any bells? Oh, and gaatlok, the famous Qunari blackpowder Rocky always fails to make." He rolled his eyes and shook his head mischievously.

"I've only heard that the Qunari come from Seheron and Par Vollen," Ahnnie recalled. "And I think I read about some invasions in a few books at Haven's Chantry." She tilted her head curiously. "Any chance you could tell me more about the Qunari yourself?"

"Why, you writing a book?" he asked, thick with sarcasm.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Well, maybe one day! Who knows? But I thought I could hear it from an actual Qunari. Someone with firsthand experience."

He gave an amused snort. "All right. What do you want to know?"

Ahnnie pursed her lips in thought. "How about leadership? How do the Qunari govern themselves?"

Iron Bull settled back into his saddle, preparing to lose himself to the faraway reaches of the Qunari homelands. "It's pretty simple," he began. "We've got the matriarchy, the priesthood, and the military. The priesthood figures out how Qunari should live, in theory. The matriarchy makes it work in practice, and the military keeps the Qunari safe from outside threats."

"That's interesting," Ahnnie remarked. "Is there a lot of infighting, though?"

"Not like you're thinking of," he corrected her. "People disagree, yeah, but the priests are there to solve disagreements. For example, in Orlais, politicking comes from people putting their own gain ahead of the gains of society. If you do that among the Qunari, the Ben-Hassrath set you straight. Or kill you."

 _Yikes._ "So Qunari society is like a socialist society? That is, a society focused more on the good of the whole than the individual."

"You could say that," Iron Bull nodded, "and it goes even farther. Under the Qun, there is no private property or currency. I say I bought this nuggalope at a bazaar, but under the Qun, I would not have obtained it that way, and even then I might not have it at all if it seems I don't need it. The closest thing we've got to merchants are suppliers who make sure the goods are distributed properly. We'll actively work at improving production through research and borrowing from other cultures, but the demands of individuals are quite limited."

That definitely sounded like socialism, and then some. "If that's the case..." Ahnnie looked confusedly up at him. "Do the Qunari have marriages? Since romance between two people would seem like an individual thing...or a union for financial purposes," she added upon remembering that love wasn't always the basis of marriages in Thedas.

The Iron Bull laughed. "Yeah, that's true. Qunari have no financial needs, and we love our friends like anyone else, but we don't have sex with them."

Ahnnie's cheeks turned a bright red. "Well, um, humans don't _do that_ with just 'friends', either. I-it's more like a _different_ sort of relationship, more, uh, close and-"

"You'd have to understand; to the Qunari, that's what it seems like." His face was smug, as if he enjoyed watching her squirm.

"S-so," she stuttered, "I guess that means the Qunari...procreate differently?"

"Oh, definitely. There are Tamassrans who pop your cork whenever you need it."

"Tamas...?"

"They're a part of the priesthood who control the selective breeding, raise all the children, and assign them their future roles. And of course..."

"Erm, yeah," Ahnnie coughed. "I believe you just mentioned that." Her cheeks, in the meantime, were growing warmer; her mind, spinning. _S_ _elective breeding? And children raised by the people who select the breeding? So there's not even the concept of family in Qunari culture? That's very...mechanic._ What a different sort of culture these horned giants lived in.

"It's not a big deal like it is here," Iron Bull put in. "It's like...I don't know, going to see a healer? Sometimes it's this long involved thing..."

She fought the urge to facepalm. _Oh my god, is he still talking about 'that'? I hope no one else is listening..._

"...takes all day, leaves you walking funny...Other times, you're in and out in five minutes. 'Thank you, see you next week!'" he pretended to call out with a suggestive click, soft enough to keep within bounds of their conversation but loud enough to make her look around frantically for any eavesdroppers.

It took Ahnnie quite some time before she was composed enough to speak again. "That's very...um, different," she eventually ground out.

"Yep." He was clearly enjoying her reaction to the topic. "Still, it's more fun here. Fewer rituals, more...making it up as you go along. Plus, you folk have redheads." He gave a low, throaty chuckle. "Ah, redheads..."

"Eh heh, yeah..." Another silence befell them as, again, Ahnnie couldn't seem to find the right words to respond with. _Just what can I say to 'redheads', of all things!?_ It was an interesting conversation, though, and she had so many more questions about the Qunari. One way or another, she was going to have them answered. She just had to let the awkwardness subside first. When she found it sufficiently so: "You talk a lot about this thing called 'the Qun'...what is it, exactly?"

All the pleasure seemed to drain away from the Iron Bull's face as he heaved a misty sigh and looked at her with a sort of fatigue. "You sure you're not writing a book? 'Cause your questions sound an awful lot like you are..."

She shrugged. "Like I said, maybe one day. Right now, I'm just curious."

He shook his head. "Hoo boy. That's one hell of a curiosity you've got there." He then flexed his shoulders, as if the task of explaining the Qun would entail physical exertion on his part. And maybe, in a way, it would. "Well first thing you'll probably hear about the Qun is that it's a religion, but..."

* * *

 

"Hey, big guy."

Iron Bull looked up, then about.

"Yeah, you...who else would I be talking to?"

And then he looked down. "Ah, you're that dwarf," he remarked upon finding the person who had addressed him. "What's your name...Varric?"

"The very same," Varric nodded. "You know, I met the Arishok."

The Iron Bull raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh, the old one? Man, he had an impressive rack. The new Arishok doesn't have horns at all. Usually means they're destined for something special."

"I met him too," Varric affirmed. "The only thing they seem to have in common is a tendency to burn things."

"That pretty much sums up the antaam, yes."

Varric watched him tend to his nuggalope awhile, observing how he pat down the creature to remove snow from its blanket's crevices. "So, you're Ben-Hassrath, eh? The spies of the Qunari."

"Oh, you've heard of us?" There was a slight hint of sarcasm, for if someone claimed to have met the Arishok, then surely they must know what the Ben-Hassrath were.

"I spent some time in Kirkwall," the dwarf explained. "You're not the first Ben-Hassrath I've run across. Hawke and I were on a caper with one named Tallis."

"You don't say."

"She caused us no end of trouble. You wouldn't know her, by any chance?"

"Hey, one time I ran across this dwarf on the road. Short, grouchy. You think you may know him?" He turned towards Varric, barely concealing any of the joke on his face.

Varric grinned back. "I'm on the Merchant's Guild. Ten royals says not only I know him - he owes me money."

"Oh. Well...no. I don't know Tallis. Sorry."

Varric chuckled. "Nah, I was just curious. But lookit you, Mr. Big, Burly, and Loud...how could you possibly be a spy?"

Iron Bull gave the shorter man an amused glance from the corner of his eye. "Well, it's a pretty easy job," he began. "I do some fighting and drinking, and then once in a while I tell Par Vollen about it."

The dwarf laid out his palms in a questioning gesture. "Where's the sneaking, plotting, the subtle machinations?"

"If you do that, everyone knows you're a spy," the qunari rebutted. "Drinking, fighting, writing notes; that's all it really takes."

Varric shook his head and chuckled. "Shit. You're really the worst qunari ever, or the best. I can't decide."

Iron Bull kept his grin concealed as he turned his back to the dwarf to give the nuggalope one last emphatic pat on the withers. "Got any more questions under your belt?" he then called out. "I can take 'em. In fact I've been answering so many questions lately, my jaw's practically oiled loose. From gender roles to recipes and architecture...you name it, I got it!"

Varric turned in amusement at the road ahead of them, where Cassandra, Ahnnie, and the others had gone ahead while he, the Chargers, and some Inquisition members made up a rear guard. "Oh, you've seen nothing. I heard from Solas - you know, the bald elf mage? The one with the funny looking staff? - that the day after she recovered, she-" The dwarf narrowed his eyes, squinting at an incoming object rushing down the path, accompanied by urgent hoofbeats. "Well, if it isn't the Inquisitor herself. Get it? _'Inquisitor_ '? Because questions?"

"Yeah, I get you," Iron Bull nodded, although his attention was now fully arrested upon the galloping Forder coming their way.

"What's the rush, kiddo?" Varric hollered at Ahnnie as she came within shouting distance.

The girl quickly checked her horse and barely fought to keep it still as it pranced about, still exhilarated by the rush of their ride. Her face, they noted, was pale. "We got to Redcliffe," she spluttered, "and there's a rift - I know, I should be there, but - Cassandra shouted for someone to get back here, to tell you, and no one seemed like they could, and-"

"Whoa, slow down," Iron Bull coaxed her, coming closer to her antsy mount with a comforting hand on its snout. With his free hand, he gestured at the Chargers. "Mount up, boys; we're going in. You can explain on the way," he nodded at her.

"I'm going back right now," Ahnnie shouted as she backed up her horse and turned it back around. "But here's the thing about this rift. It's...different. You'll see when you get there!" With a slap to the Forder's buttock, she was off again, racing down the path as though the very rift demons were on her tail.

"Shit," Varric cursed as he quickly jumped on his pony. "Wonder what she means by 'different'."

* * *

 

Ahnnie reined in her horse at the safest yet closest possible distance to Redcliffe's main gate. Before its stone walls pulsed an angry, electric green rift, crowned atop a miasma of confused fighting. Without a second thought, she jumped off her horse and half-stumbled half-ran to a flustered Cassandra. When she came within speaking distance, the woman grabbed her arm and spun her about like a naughty child.

"Where were you?" came the sharp reproach.

She could only point behind her in response at the galloping forms of the rest of their party raising dust on the road.

"What's this, Seeker?" Varric asked after he swung off his pony, one of the first to arrive. "You don't look so happy."

"Of course I don't, Varric," she spat. "This _thing_ explodes in our faces the moment we get close, and as if demons weren't the least of our concerns, it baffles us with its strange...magic!"

One look at the scattered corpses and horseflesh testified to the first part of her account. But before anyone could say anything, Solas suddenly appeared at their side as if conjured from thin air.

He blinked a moment and then looked at the incoming Chargers behind Ahnnie. "Well, at least it was forward this time," he muttered casually, though his face was streaked with dirt and some blood.

"All right, what's all this hocus pocus about?" Varric demanded, no longer joking. "Whaddyou mean by 'forward this time'?"

Solas pointed towards the disjointed battlefield, where men were fighting demons and strangely colored circles lit the ground beneath their feet. "There are temporal distortions appearing on the ground that either take you back a few seconds in time, or a few seconds forward." Almost at once, the people within the circles blinked out of existence. Some came back a few seconds later, others took a longer time and repeated their former actions before blinking away again.

Varric's brows furrowed deeper. "Oh, _shit_! Time magic?"

"You now see what we're up against," Cassandra hissed. "At this rate, it will take forever to get rid of the demons. And to get close enough to the rift..."

Ahnnie withdrew her glaive and gripped it tight. "Maybe if I just dodge the circles..."

"Too risky. You see how haphazardly they appear." The Seeker's eyes narrowed. "Maker strike me if this isn't a trap from the mages."

"And how would any of the mages here be capable of something like this?" Solas shot back. "The Veil is weaker here than in Haven, and not merely weak, but altered in a way I have not seen. The rebel mages here are simply not _advanced_ enough, not even I-"

"The coincidence, Solas - the very timing of it-"

"That's all well and grand, but it's a _completely_ different-"

"Guys!" Ahnnie gripped onto Solas' forearm while looking up pleadingly at Cassandra. "Can't we think of this later? There's...there's gotta be a way to stop it, first..."

The Chargers thundered up the hill as they spoke, reining in close behind the other's mounts. Iron Bull was about to lead a rush into the frenzy before Cassandra stopped and briefed him on the situation. And perhaps she felt like being nice, for she crossed her arms and asked him what he thought could be made of the situation.

"Well, here's the thing," Krem began with a critical eye on the battlefield. "Maybe you've got too many out there. Too many at once, just falling into these 'distortions'. Get some people out, maybe draw the demons away. See if that doesn't lay it all bare for you."

Solas looked over at Cassandra. "It may take some time to fully reach all the men, but a continuous call to fall back should do the trick."

"And if these circles follow the demons?" the Seeker countered.

"We've seen no evidence of that so far. It's worth a try."

Iron Bull chuckled as he ruffled the strip of hair along Krem's head. "That's a Bull's Charger for you! Brilliant, I tell ya. That all you want us to do, Boss? Draw 'em back and bash their brains out?"

Solas looked slightly amused at being called 'boss'. "Where's your mage? I will need her, as well as the Herald."

"For the last time, I'm an _archer_ ," Dalish snapped from somewhere behind the chief.

Solas turned in her voice's direction with a knowing smile. "Ah, there she is," he remarked. "Cassandra, call the signal to retreat; once everyone's far back enough, Dalish and I will take the Herald closer to the rift."

The Seeker nodded and turned aside to bark for the much desired signal. A horn blew out a singular tune across the air, quickly followed by another and another. The effect was instantaneous, as Ahnnie supposed it should be in a field of battle; the men fighting began to lead a retreat, burdened though it was by the demons following them. As promised, Cassandra kept the signal elongated so that all the soldiers had a chance to hear it. Blackwall and Sera were among the most notable figures drawing back from the rift, the discomfited elven archer sticking close to the Warden as she eyed the ground suspiciously.

"About time! Demons and magic can just piss off!" Sera was hissing. "Good thing I've got you in front of me, eh, Blackbeard?"

"Oh, of course," Blackwall sighed, exasperated. "Regular meat shield, I am."

And then the tune fluctuated by a note, upon which the successfully retreated fighters turned their backs around and steadily drew back with their weapons defensive; a feat reminiscent of bull baiters. Solas took Ahnnie in the meantime to an inconspicuous place behind a boulder, where they could watch the events more or less in safety.

"So, what's the plan?" Dalish's voice piped up from behind her, and the girl whirled around to find the tattooed elf coming up to them with a hand on a hip.

"We'll give them a chance to clear out first and observe how the circles move," Solas replied. "Then we will move in."

Ahnnie looked up at him. "What if demons spawn while we're in there?"

"Well then, we'll just have to get rid of them," Dalish said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"We will be with you," Solas assured her, "and if we can discern the slightest trace of a pattern in these distortions, we may be able to avoid them. We could even use them to our advantage."

"I know, I wasn't worried about safety," Ahnnie nodded. "Nothing's ever happened to me when I'm with you."

Dalish gave the both of them an inquisitive look, which Ahnnie didn't notice. The corner of Solas' lip twitched lightly, but only for a brief second before he was all business again, watching the yellow and green circles on the ground intently. Only a few men lagged behind, having stepped inadvertently into one of the circles in their retreat.

Once they were all gone, Dalish nodded at Solas. "Think now's the time?"

Solas looked left, then right, and nodded back. "The circles appear to be limited within a radius of three hundred feet of the rift," he remarked as he led them around the boulder. "So far, no pattern yet - but be ready to warn each other if you see one close by."

"An eye on the ground, an eye on the sky?" Dalish inquired, jerking a thumb at the crackling rift.

"That would be helpful, yes."

They were now within said bounds of the rift. "I'll watch out for circles," Ahnnie volunteered, but as soon as she said that, Dalish let out a yelp of surprise.

"Yellow circle!" the elf cried, pointing at the ground by Ahnnie's feet.

"Wha-"

A sudden blink, and then a push, as if someone shoved her backwards, and Ahnnie was suddenly propelled back to her former spot not less than a few seconds ago.

"An eye on the ground, an eye on the sky?" Dalish was asking again, with the same thumb jerking motion.

"That would be helpful, yes," Solas nodded, again.

Ahnnie did not have the time to wonder about the strange experience when she suddenly held them both back. "Yellow circle!" she cried out, having learned her lesson; as if on cue, a circle of yellowish light ringed the ground right where they had intended to step. It only held for a few seconds before it was gone. "Sorry," she apologized. "I just fell into that thing earlier...so, uh, I'll watch out for circles," she volunteered yet again, not entirely sure either of the mages ever remembered her saying it.

"Of course," Solas agreed. "Now, quickly!"

They dashed forward, darting here and there between circles as best as they could. "Green!" Ahnnie cried as one formed beneath Dalish's feet. The elf blinked away regardless, popping up beside them both after they had run forward a few paces.

"Yellow takes you back, green takes you forward," Ahnnie then realized.

"Perhaps the green ones aren't so bad," Dalish remarked. "It left me right where I wanted to be."

"True, I have noticed that," Solas agreed.

"Then we should take the green ones to get to the rift faster?" Ahnnie asked.

Solas frowned. "Well, I wouldn't-"

But she cut him off when she spotted a green circle and voluntarily hopped into it. This time, it felt as though she were being shoved forwards, and she blinked back into reality to find that she was several feet closer to her destination. A sense of exhilaration welled up within her as she realized the new usefulness of the strange temporal distortions; that was of course, until she heard the shriek of a terror demon spawning from the ground directly ahead of her.

"I was going to say, that I wouldn't be so hasty," Solas called to her as he and Dalish pulled up beside her.

"Right," Ahnnie nodded, holding her glaive out defensively. "Sorry."

Solas raised his staff in the air and chanted under his breath; shortly afterwards, a palish green circle ringed the area around them. "Let us hope this barrier will suffice in keeping the circles from us," he said. "Dalish, you and I will attack the demon; Ahnnie, stay between us and try to see if you can connect to the rift. And absolutely _no one_ move from this spot."

"Certainly better than running all over the place," Dalish nodded, and she and Solas started shooting elemental bolts at the lanky terror demon. Solas first to freeze its feet in place, then Dalish with harsh fireballs to strike its torso and head. Ahnnie turned away from them to raise her left hand towards the rift, although she kept the other trained on the glaive, just in case.

The mark in her hand vibrated with more and more intensity, but any light it gave out suffused and spluttered like a dying car engine. She shook her head and looked back at Solas. "I need to get closer!"

Solas dispersed the barrier around them and the trio stalked carefully towards the rift. The terror demon howled and yanked a foot free of Solas' ice, before diving into the ground and disappearing from view. Ahnnie watched for circles as well as for the demon, knowing how spontaneously it could reappear at any moment.

It burst out of the ground roughly a yard away from an incoming yellow circle, directly below Dalish. With a piercing shriek, it sliced into the elven mage's body like a knife through hot butter.

" _No_!" Ahnnie shouted, watching Dalish's body tumble down lifelessly. Zeroing in on the yellow circle on the ground, she jumped into it without a second thought-

-and was brought back to the precious few seconds before the terror demon did its dirty deed. "Dalish!" She grabbed the mage's arm and yanked her back fiercely, hoping to be just in time. The demon burst through as expected, but barely a foot away from them. Ahnnie's heart skipped a beat as she realized they narrowly missed being mutilated by only a hair.

Solas grabbed them both back and froze the demon's feet again. "Be careful!" he chided, but the bite in his tone failed to rattle her. Dalish was alive; that was all that mattered.

As they were moving out again, Dalish gave her a solemn look. "Thank you," she murmured to the girl, and it took Ahnnie a moment to realize the expression was one of respect.

"It was nothing," Ahnnie smiled back.

Solas stopped them at a point much closer to the rift than before, and like before, he created a barrier around them before shooting at the demon to keep it at bay. Dalish went to work beside him and Ahnnie turned to the rift, hoping it was close enough this time. _It's got to be,_ she thought. _It always worked at this distance._

As she expected, a beam shot out from her mark and connected to the rift. _Success!_ Now she only prayed that this rift didn't have stages.

"Down!" Dalish cried, and Ahnnie turned her head to find that the terror demon was successfully destroyed.

"Thank God!" the girl cried out, relieved.

Solas turned over to her, eyeing the rift critically. "How is it coming along?"

"Steady? I feel it weakening."

"Perhaps I can help you advance it."

That sounded like a good idea. The quicker it could be over with, the better. Before he could touch his hand to hers, though, he was suddenly hurled out of the barrier, lunged aside by a large brown shape.

"Solas!" Ahnnie cried out, watching in horror as the shade barreled him over. The force of the blow knocked the staff out of his hands, flinging it uselessly within confines of the barrier. A cry of pain escaped Solas' lips as the shade made a slash across his chest. With a powerful heave, he caught its wrist in one of his hands and sought to wrestle it away from his face.

Dalish found herself in a similar predicament as another shade spawned precariously close to their circle. "I'll get to him as soon as I can," she promised, but it wasn't reassurance enough. The more the seconds ticked by, the more danger Solas was in.

Ahnnie broke contact with the rift and lunged straight for Solas' shade. With a desperate cry, she sank the bladed end of her glaive into its leathery back, causing it to shriek in anger and whirl around to swipe at her with a claw. She ducked the blow and yanked her glaive free as it turned about, slicing into its face with the crescent blade before stabbing deep into its middle. Without even waiting for it to disintegrate, she grabbed Solas' hand and pulled him up.

"That was extremely foolish of you," he chided her again.

"It was completely worth it!" she shot back, hands and legs shaky from the sight of blood on his body. "Now are you going to help me, or not?"

They jumped back within the barrier and Ahnnie raised her left hand back towards the rift. As the beam flowed out from within her, Solas enclosed his hand around it and chanted out a spell. She felt a stream of mana course through her hand, feeding into the greedy mark, and the beam intensified. As the rift began to show the first sign of wearing away, Dalish finished her fight with the shade and held out her staff to prepare warding away more.

"Hurry, more demons are coming," she pointed out to them.

The rift hummed and morphed into itself, crackling like breaking glass. More mana poured into the mark and the beam tore away at the rift like a child shredding paper. Then with a final burst of light, the air thundered in their very ears and blew them all back in a haphazard tumble. The world spun like a crazy top as Ahnnie rolled away, slamming to a stop at a boulder. _Ow,_ she thought, too shocked to open her mouth for a groan.

From above the gate posts, a trembling voice rang out. "M-Maker have mercy! It's over! Open the gates!"

* * *

 

The creaking of the winches and pulleys as the portcullis was raised echoed above the heads of the near-exhausted group of people filing in under the gate. They split into several groups, one containing the Herald heading towards the heart of Redcliffe and others following suit with the horses and other supplies. As soon as the Herald's party made headway down the path, one of Leliana's green-hooded scouts apprehended them.

"We spread word the Inquisition was coming," the scout reported with a quick salute to the Herald, "but you should know that no one here was expecting us."

"No one?" Ahnnie echoed incredulously. "Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?"

The scout shrugged. "If she was, she hasn't told anyone."

"Well that's just _shite_!" Sera cursed, kicking at a stone. "We go through all this time crap and demon crap, and what does the friggin' Enchanter do but stand us up? _Knew_ we shouldn't have come here! Friggin' mages..."

"We've arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations," the scout continued, ignoring the irate elf. "You could-"

"Agents of the Inquisition! My apologies." Their attention was directed to a spindly elven man running up to them. "Magister Alexius is in charge now," he huffed as he jogged to a stop, "but hasn't yet arrived. He's expected shortly. You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime."

Ahnnie blinked, unable to process these sudden developments at once. "Did you say, 'Magister'?" she asked at last. "As in...from Tevinter?"

"Indeed," the elf nodded, a nervous smile wavering on his lips. "Just thought you should know."

"What else do you 'think we should know'?" Cassandra asked, stepping forward. A hand was already encircling the hilt of her sword.

The elven man backed away, widening eyes glued to the fingers on her weapon. "That's all I was sent to tell you. You'll find out in due time, I promise." Before the Seeker could reach him, he did a nervous jump-step backwards and rushed off as if pressed by an urgent errand.

Everyone watched him scurry away with both wary and weary eyes. Ahnnie refused to look at Cassandra's face, not wanting to look into the fury. "So..." she began, before they could lapse into an awkward silence, or something worse. "To the tavern?"

Cassandra dismissed the Inquisition scout and nodded in Ahnnie's direction as she walked forward. "To the tavern," she affirmed. "We should talk to the Grand Enchanter. And not so many of you," she added to the bulk of the Bull's Chargers, Blackwall, and Sera. "Keep your eyes about the village; be wary of anything strange. Solas, Varric, and I will suffice for this meeting."

The Chargers dispersed easily enough, not one for diplomatic negotiations anyways. Sera on the other hand scowled at this order, not keen to be stuck in a village known for harboring apostates, while Blackwall gave the Seeker a look of concern. "If you're certain...But I'll be close by. Give a shout, and I'll come running."

"Thank you, Warden Blackwall," Cassandra nodded.

Ahnnie turned to Solas as soon as the others were gone. "Are you okay with coming along? Do you want to rest somewhere?" she asked, eyeing the makeshift bandage peeping from the slash in his tunic worriedly.

"I will be fine, da'len," he assured her, smiling.

Redcliffe itself seemed like an amiable village. It was situated on a picturesque hillside overlooking a part of Lake Calenhad, pretty and charming even in the wintertime. The only thing that seemed to mar the air was the talk floating about them. Ahnnie supposed she should be used to this wherever she went by now, but it was still unnerving to hear of refugees and death and evil templars. The Gull and Lantern was several paces down the hill and near the docks, isolated and forlorn in a way that a tavern shouldn't be. It was near empty, too, save for three people standing in the middle of its dining area.

Grand Enchanter Fiona was a petite elven woman, with raven black hair and pale green eyes. She seemed so small that Ahnnie almost mistook her for a child. She stood flanked by two other mages, glaring uncertainly at the party of four as they walked into the dimly lit space. "Welcome, agents of the Inquisition," she greeted them. A slight Orlesian accent could be heard curling at the back of her tongue. "What has brought you to Redcliffe?"

"You invited us here," Cassandra put in frankly. "You sent a missive to Haven some time ago."

"You must be mistaken," Fiona corrected her. "I haven't written anything of the sort."

"Then who wrote this message?" The Seeker came up, reached into a pouch at her side, and withdrew a folded letter. "Is this not your handwriting?" So saying, she shoved it in the Enchanter's direction.

Fiona frowned at the parchment and reached to unfold it. Upon reading its contents, her frown turned confused, and she shook her head slowly. "I...I don't know. Now that you bring it up, I feel strange..."

" _How_ strange?" Varric ventured to ask.

She shook her head one last time and graced the quartet with a rather pitiable expression. "Whoever...or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already...pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."

A shocked silence ran through their group. Varric could be heard letting out a whistle of breath, and Ahnnie tried to keep the surprise from showing on her face. _Was this all a trap, after all?_ a fearful little voice asked from within her. Solas only seemed slightly perturbed, though what he truly thought was as always a mystery. And of course, she could trust from experience that Cassandra would respond to this sort of thing with the one emotion she knew best.

"An alliance with _Tevinter_?" The last two syllables were proclaimed so sharply, they rang in everyone's ears. "Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?"

Varric shook his head. "Andraste's ass...I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could've done. And I've got nothing."

The Enchanter's face twisted further in agony, and the two mages beside her looked extremely uncomfortable. They clearly understood the implications of what they had done; and yet, they had done it anyway, which was what baffled Ahnnie.

"I understand that you are afraid," Solas murmured sympathetically, "but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter."

Fiona sighed. "As an indentured servant to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."

"But the Breach!" The words slipped out of her mouth, but this time Ahnnie couldn't blame herself; she was truly horrified to hear that one of the Inquisition's last options was now falling beyond their grasp. "We need the help, and the longer we leave it, the more demons come through! Doesn't Tevinter care about that at all?"

The Enchanter turned to her, apparently noticing her for the first time. "I am not forgetting the Breach, but we can only fight one war at a time. The templar threat was immediate; if we live, we can worry about the torn Veil."

Ahnnie shook her head. "A rift opened up at the village's gate! _Anything_ could have happened if we didn't come today - by the time you worry about the Breach, it'll probably be-"

The tavern door suddenly slammed open, cutting her off. The quartet whirled around instinctively towards the noise, the source of which was a trio of men dressed in foreign clothes with equally foreign features.

"Welcome, my friends!" the head of the trio called out. He had a pleasant voice, and a very Ferelden-like sort of Common. "I apologize for not greeting you sooner."

Fiona gestured at the man, her discomfort replaced by a stiff politeness. "Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."

Magister Alexius filed in until he faced the quartet, blocking Enchanter Fiona from their view. He had a thick, squared jaw and downward slanting hooded eyes. The only hair she seemed to see on him were his dark, bushy eyebrows and scant lines of stubble streaking his chin. "The southern mages are under my command," he stated, as if to remind them of a fact. Then his eyes flicked over to Ahnnie. "And you are the Survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting."

Ahnnie stared at him awhile, strangely amazed to behold a Tevinter magister in the flesh despite the severity of the situation. Perhaps it was the suddenness of his entrance; at any rate, her former fire dwindled as she remembered the diplomatic setting their meeting was supposed to be under. And somehow, pissing off Tevinter seemed as unappealing as siding with it. "Maybe we can negotiate something," she said at last, her voice subdued, "since you lead the mages now. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

The Magister smiled, ever-so-lightly. "It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable woman."

To be referred to as a 'woman' - and not a 'girl', for once - perhaps she shouldn't have let it take her aback, but it was _..._ different.

Very subtly, in the dim lighting, his smile appeared to widen by a tad. "Come." He gestured her over to an empty table for two, which she walked up to with more than a little trepidation. Much to her relief, Cassandra took up sentry behind her, dutiful as ever. The Magister didn't seem to mind; he called over one of his men, a young one dressed in yellow, shortly after settling down. "Felix, would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners," Alexius apologized. "My son Felix, friends."

Ahnnie smiled and nodded politely in Felix's direction. He returned the favor and gave both her and the Seeker a courtly bow before turning away from the table to start his search for a scribe.

"I'm not surprised you're here," the Magister went on. "Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages will be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed."

"It's not an ambition," Ahnnie felt the need to point out, "but a necessity. There's no telling what will happen if the Breach is not dealt with."

"But of course. Such magic is dangerous."

"Then you will lend us a hand, Magister?"

Alexius' face hardened. "There will have to be-" But he appeared startled by something from the corner of his eye and turned in its direction.

Curious, Ahnnie followed his gaze. What interrupted him was Felix, alone, coming up to them as if he had something important to say. _Wasn't he supposed to find a scribe?_ But he looked...queasy. Unwell. Magister Alexius abruptly pushed his chair back to step towards his son. Ahnnie rose from her seat as well, not certain of what was happening but alarmed by the young man's malady. Just as it seemed as though Felix were about to open his mouth, his head suddenly lolled and he tipped directly into her.

"Felix!" his father cried.

The girl reflexively caught him, slightly surprised by the bulk of his weight in her arms, before lowering him gently into a kneeling position. Once he reached the ground, he grabbed hold of one of her hands as if to steady himself and forced a paper into her palm. She opened her mouth to ask about it, but a strong pinch to her wrist warned her against it. She closed a fist around the paper in response. "I-is everything okay?" she asked instead, worried.

He gave a little shake of his head. "My lord, I'm so sorry," he apologized to his father. "Please forgive me."

The Magister was at his side in a heartbeat. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Father."

"Come, I'll get your powders." His voice, they could hear, was frantic. It was back to being forceful once he arose to address the others in the tavern, though. "Please excuse me, friends. I shall send word to the Inquisition; we will conclude the business at a later date. Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle." Without even looking at her, he strode for the door.

The former Grand Enchanter gave an obedient nod and slinked after him, followed by her two mages. Felix limped behind them, a hand clutching the side of his stomach.

 _I guess that's that, then?_ Ahnnie thought as she watched them leave, still confused by the whole episode.

Felix looked back at them one last time. "I don't mean to trouble everyone," he apologized weakly, before ducking out along with everyone else. The door was then pulled shut and the quartet enveloped in the hazy quietness of the empty tavern.

Once Ahnnie believed the mages were well and gone, she opened her fist and uncrumpled the little paper.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at it. "What is that?" she was quick to ask.

"That guy, Felix, gave it to me when he fell. He didn't want anyone else to know."

Solas and Varric then approached, curious. "What's it say?" the rogue dwarf asked her.

Ahnnie walked closer to a torch flickering in a sconce on the wall and studied the hastily scrawled runes carefully. " _Come to the Chantry. You are in danger_."


	14. Dorian

Redcliffe's Chantry seemed like any other Chantry in Thedas. Built of stone, graced with rounded triangular facades, engraved or emblazoned in some way with the Andrastian sunburst - it was becoming as titular to Ahnnie as the steeple-and-spire structures of Christian churches. She might as well have been coming to offer a prayer to Andraste than secretly meeting with whoever-it-was to discuss the 'danger' they - or she - were in.

"At least we know we're getting into some trouble," Varric pointed out, trying to find a silver lining. "Neither of you had any warning Lord Seeker Lucius was gonna..." But he dropped the matter after receiving a glare from Cassandra. "Well, you get my point."

"The Chantry sisters and brothers seem relaxed enough," Solas commented. "Then again, many of them were out in the village."

"So we can expect it to be more or less empty?" Ahnnie inferred.

"So you may _think_ ," Cassandra corrected her. "But of course, we must see what this is about. I heavily dislike all this secrecy and scheming."

So be it, but if memory served her well, Chantries weren't a hundred percent problem-free zones _._ Then again, she was the only one of their group to have been imprisoned in one. As she followed them up the steps, Ahnnie couldn't help wondering what awaited beyond those sunburst emblazoned doors. _This is a lot like Sera's note, just not as complex...what sort of danger could I be in this time?_

The door opened to reveal a hall so deceptively similar to the one in Haven she could've sworn she was there instead of Redcliffe. The only difference was a rift glowing in the middle of it, and a mustached man with a staff knocking the living daylights out of two demons.

Yes.

A rift. And demons. Inside a Chantry.

... _fuck._

Weapons were out faster than the eye could blink, but the man succeeded in beating the demons to oblivion before noticing the extra company. "Good!" he exclaimed. "You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?"

His tone bordered on arrogant and he hadn't even the slightest sign of strain or fatigue; that, or he was good at hiding it. It was almost as though he had been expecting them by appointment and they just had the audacity to arrive late.

Three terror demons suddenly spawned before them, blocking the way to the rift. The strange man proved himself to be a mage, as he immediately used his staff to aim fire at the demon closest to him. Solas, Varric, and Cassandra knew what to do - this sort of thing had been honed into them by now, so familiar it was almost a regular exercise. With ice incapacitating the two other demons, Cassandra and Varric fell upon the one in the middle, while Solas worked on completely freezing the last one.

Ahnnie ducked between the iced legs of the frozen demons and ran for the rift. Just when she thought everything was under some semblance of control, though, the world suddenly blinked away and she felt a familiar shove backwards in time.

"Those circles!" she yelled in frustration, back beside her companions as they fought the demons. "They're here, too!"

"Oh, yes, those troublesome rings!" the strange man exclaimed. "Do watch your step."

The problem seemed to be more prevalent closer to the rift, which was frustrating. Not to mention Solas was waving his staff in such wide arcs, it was most definitely irritating the wound in his chest. _This shit has got to end, and fast!_ She could only take so much action and consternation in one day. Why did life never see it fit to just give her a break?

As if in defiance of this joke of fate, Ahnnie raced between the frozen terror demons' legs as before, but instead of watching her step, she jumped into the first green circle she saw. And then another, and another, in a continuous game of jump-into-the-green-circles until she was directly beneath the ever-rotating crystal of the rift. With a breathless look back at the others, she realized she'd just covered a distance of a couple hundred feet in at least half the time it took to run. Feeling optimistic, she hopped onto a fallen piece of stone, hoping its small shape made it safe from the time circles, and thrust her mark at the rift.

It exploded shortly after, sending a shower of neon green sparks all over the Chantry halls. She shielded her eyes in response and half-fell, half-jumped from her foot tall perch. The air, once charged with crackling energy, smoothed over, quieted, and calmed until it was the reverent atmosphere of a place of worship once again.

The man stared at the empty air where the rift had been floating not more than a few seconds ago. Then he gazed back at their group, registering each face as if noticing them for the first time, ending at Ahnnie as she returned. "Fascinating," he breathed a moment later. "How does that work, exactly?"

She paused. "Well...it..." She frowned, trying to think of an answer, and then shrugged in defeat.

"You don't even know, do you?" the mage asked. "You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes."

"It's not the fingers, it's in the palm."

Cassandra interrupted them before they could go any further. "Who are you?" she demanded, fed up with these shenanigans.

The strange man blinked. "Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see." To rectify his mistake, he gave them a suave bow and an equally suave introduction. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?"

The Seeker scowled. "Another Tevinter. Be careful with this one."

Dorian glanced at Cassandra with a raised brow, then back at Ahnnie. "Suspicious friends you have here," he remarked, almost thoughtfully.

If he seemed nervous, he did not show it. In which case, he was the best living example of "keeping one's cool" Ahnnie had ever seen. She restrapped the glaive onto her back and walked tentatively close to him on her way back to her companions. " _Should_ we be suspicious of you?" she asked back. "Just who are you, in the general scheme of things?"

The answer came smoothly, perhaps even readily. "Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable - as I'm sure you can imagine."

Ahnnie jolted to a stop beside Solas. She whirled around and wondered why such conspiracies from Ben-Hassrath spies to _this_ were happening to her in such alarming frequency. "And you would betray him because...?"

"Alexius _was_ my mentor," Dorian reminded her, offended. "Meaning he's not any longer, not for some time." Then his hardened look melted away. "Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you."

That certainly got their attention. "It was so sudden," Cassandra agreed, despite her suspicion of him. "We should have gotten word of it by Leliana's people the moment we entered the Hinterlands, or at least in rumors throughout the other villages. Instead, it was at the last minute; almost as if..."

"By magic, yes?" Dorian finished for her, and based on the expressions of the others about him, he knew he had hit the mark. "Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."

Solas furrowed his brows in thought. "That is fascinating, if true...and almost certainly dangerous. It would account for the strangely altered state of the Veil in the area."

"The rift you closed here?" Dorian went on. "You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down."

"Hell, we went through one exactly like it just before entering the village," Varric supplied, to which Dorian's face grew grave.

"Soon there will be more like it," the Tevinter mage prophesied, "and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic that Alexius is using is unstable, and it's unraveling the world."

The prospect of a time-distorting danger in addition to the Breach was more than anyone in the room could bear. "You expect us to gamble on faith," Cassandra surmised unhappily.

"I know what I'm talking about," he retorted. "I helped _develop_ this magic! When I was an apprentice, it was pure theory - Alexius could never get it to work." He shook his head. "What I don't understand is...why? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"He didn't do it for them."

Ahnnie turned around to find Felix approaching them, no longer burdened by his earlier ailment. Either he had snuck through the door quietly or entered from another source, for they had not been aware of his presence until now.

"Took you long enough," Dorian greeted. "Is he getting suspicious?"

"No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day."

Cassandra crossed her arms. "Care to elaborate?"

"My father's joined a cult," Felix explained. "Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori'. And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you." His gaze bore into Ahnnie at the last word.

The Seeker cocked her head to one side. "Supposing the Magister went through all that trouble, rearranging time and indenturing the mage rebellion; it is solely to get to her?" She gestured with a hand back at the girl.

"They're obsessed with her," Felix replied, "but I don't know why. Perhaps because she survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"

"She _can_ close the rifts," Dorian pointed out, "and she's allegedly from a different world. Maybe there's a connection? Or they see her as a threat?"

Felix's face twisted into an expression of disgust. "If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought."

Now that he mentioned it, Tevinter supremacists being responsible for the magic that destroyed the Conclave and brought forth the Breach seemed somewhat plausible. The country was known for its reverence of magic; its culture was conducive to research into any arcane branch that, in the hands of radicals, had the potential to spiral into catastrophe. Maker knows, they had been accused of such many times before. Then what Dorian said made a thought pop into her head: _What if the Breach was not only their fault, but they know Earth exists now? And not just because I keep talking about it..._

Varric eyed the youth pensively, perhaps even sympathetically. "You've got guts, kid," he commented after some thought. "It ain't easy working against family...'specially when you think they might be involved in blowing up a hole in the sky."

The dwarf seemed to have struck a chord within him. Felix pursed his lips and swallowed, eyes lowering to the floor. "I love my father, and I love my country, but this? Cults? Time magic? What he's doing now is madness. For his own sake, I...I had to say something."

Their exchange brought Ahnnie back from worlds in danger, and a little part of her went out to Felix after hearing the sadness in his tone. "What can I do, then?" she finally asked. There had to be _something._

"You know you are his target," Dorian told her. "Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage." He then turned aside, as if to leave. "I can't stay at Redcliffe; Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you are ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch."

"You agree to answer to the Inquisition, should anything implicate you," Cassandra stated as the mage began to move away, down the hall.

"Of course," he nodded. "And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."

The Magister's son watched him until he disappeared through an archway, the stones of which were faintly marred by the rift. "There are worse things than dying, Dorian," he murmured, and Ahnnie was close enough to have heard it.

* * *

 

It was good to be at the Crossroads again, a familiar place where they knew they had allies and could regroup and refresh themselves in safety. It was at the Crossroads that they would wait for Magister Alexius' invitation; Redcliffe's situation was not favorable to stability, and despite a generous offer to accommodate the Inquisition at its Castle, there were doubts as to the host's trustworthiness.

And he knew it, too. There couldn't have been any mistaking the true purpose behind their politely crafted rejection. But such was the game they were playing. The Inquisition could have gone and made the journey back up the Frostbacks to Haven; instead, they decided to camp themselves within a day's march of Redcliffe. Close enough to be on call, far enough to be out of reach.

As the saying goes, it takes two to tango. The Magister held all the right cards, from being the only other option left thanks to the red-crazed templars to holding the keys to any hope of negotiation - promising the Inquisition the desired meeting, whenever it so suited him.

It only remained to see what would happen next.

* * *

 

"Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand."

That was what Cassandra had said the morning after they arrived at the Crossroads, sheltered from the wind under a dark commander's tent.

"I thought we were going to negotiate with him?" Ahnnie asked, wondering what the Seeker had in mind - though perhaps she had suspected it already, the moment she heard the firm resolve in Cassandra's voice.

"Negotiation is but a pretense. He holds the upper hand, and knows it. What the Tevinter mage told us back at the Chantry has only served to reaffirm my suspicions; we cannot reasonably negotiate with the Magister without something disastrous happening. He and this 'Venatori' care naught for the closing of the Breach - they want you, for reasons we do not know, but it is certain that it is all for their personal agenda." She paused a moment to take a sip from her cup of spiced wine. "The Magister will keep us waiting, toying with our supposed desperation to stop the Breach."

"Isn't it a desperate situation, though?" Ahnnie asked again. "Why 'supposed'?"

"We want to stop the Breach, but we will not beg Tevinter for the help." The Seeker put down her wine cup. "We will have the rebel mages...and we will have them without foreign masters."

Blackwall raised an eyebrow. "You mean to take back Redcliffe Castle, then?"

Cassandra nodded. "Precisely." She came to a little table at the center and laid out a map of the castle that had been conveniently rolled beneath a paperweight. "We have reinforcements and loyal citizenry here to fall back on; and while we will not take it by storm, we can certainly rely on the agents Leliana has left at our disposal. One such agent gave me a copy of the castle's plans and pointed out a secret passage formerly used as an escape route-"

"Too narrow for troops, but a perfect fit for agents," Blackwall concluded, eyeing the indicated passage on the paper.

Ahnnie observed it as well, seeing the possibility within the plan. "Oh, um, stupid question," she piped up, "but...what happened to the arl of Redcliffe? I kind of just realized there's been no mention of him..."

"Oh, you probably didn't hear." Solas came through the tent flap and stopped beside her. "The Venatori evicted Arl Teagan and his forces from Redcliffe shortly after attaining the rebel mages' servitude. The arl himself is in Denerim petitioning for royal aid to recapture his home."

"News of which no one has heard of until now," Cassandra growled.

 _Ah, yes. That pesky time magic._ The surprise was just now beginning to ripple across the Hinterlands; she felt silly for not realizing it sooner. "Sorry. Please continue," she nodded to Cassandra.

"I apologize as well if I've arrived a little late," Solas added. "Now, from what I heard...you mean to sneak agents into the castle?"

"This passage is the only entrance that is not glaringly obvious," Cassandra nodded. "Of course, we will need a distraction."

"The meeting, then," Blackwall said. "When's it taking place?"

Solas gave them a wry smile. "It won't be for a while, no. Not if the Magister is worth his salt."

"But it _will_ come," Cassandra reminded them. "We must act the part of impatience before then. I will keep a correspondence with Leliana by raven to arrange everything as required. Regardless, the main plan will be to infiltrate and disable the castle's defenses while the Magister is occupied with Ahnnie."

Ahnnie frowned. "How do you know this will work? What if the Venatori..."

"It is a gamble," Cassandra admitted, "but one I am willing to take. I'm quite sure the Magister is not aware of what Dorian and Felix revealed to us, and a limited Tevinter presence in the Hinterlands suggests to me that they have not the force to spread farther. Those are the things that tip the balance in our favor for now. Then we can be rid of this farce and focus on what is important."

* * *

 

Just as the Seeker and hedge mage predicted, here they were, well into a waiting period that was starting to stretch beyond polite happenstance. Every now and then one of Leliana's scouts would send a report of what was happening in Redcliffe, but if they were anything to go by, then there was not much happening at all. The Magister's son was a little sick, which seemed to be the only thing of note, and Ahnnie worried that it was not a ruse this time around. She hoped he could get well soon, though it seemed as if he suffered from a chronic rather than acute disease from the way his father fussed over him.

Cassandra seemed the least disturbed by this elongated stalemate. She received ravens from Haven every two or three days, and was constantly busy as a result. God knows how many times she summoned Ahnnie, Blackwall, Solas, Iron Bull, and Varric to the command tent with a new variation to the plan or some important observation Leliana wanted to make (Sera...well, Sera was nowhere to be found when these things happened, and the Seeker seemed to prefer it that way). No news of any royal forces coming to take back Redcliffe had come yet, so the Inquisition was still on its own. No matter; neither Leliana nor Cassandra seemed to care.

 _At least the Crossroads is doing well,_ Ahnnie thought, looking about the village square with a hint of reminiscence in her gaze. The day was gray and everything was lightly dusted in white, but she could see how it had progressed since the last time she was there. More buildings stood whole, more merchants clamored in the marketplace, the people didn't look half as frightened or impoverished...they were not necessarily doing the best in terms of supplies, but on the topic of morale, everything was going swell. _Not even the news of Redcliffe falling to Tevinters has managed to bring them down._ She liked to think it was because of the Inquisition's presence in the area.

Then a flitting shape swished past the corner of her eye and she instinctively whipped her head in its direction. She had just barely followed the hem of a dark cloak before it disappeared around the corner along with whoever was wearing it.

Ahnnie cocked her head to one side, curious. She'd seen this figure slinking about the square several times now; he never seemed to have any purpose, just flitting between people as if in search - or maybe anticipation? - of something or someone. She almost swore she'd seen him a few days prior, but no sighting of him was so clear as it was now. He was interesting, but only for the few seconds that he could be seen.

Then a woman came in from the corner whom Ahnnie recognized as the village baker, and she resumed her people watching with the little exchange the baker was having with a vendor. She couldn't hear the words from this distance, but it looked like they were having a heated exchange...after the baker left, a little ruffian crossed the square with darting fingers no purses or pockets were safe from. Ahnnie sighed, lamenting the circumstances that led to this profession (if one could call it a profession). The boy was only, what...ten? Eleven? She had seen him several times in the act of running into people or helping them pick up things they dropped, or some such social ruse that rendered them unaware of his tactics. Sometimes it was as blatant as reaching into the pocket of a back-facing victim.

She traced his lanky figure to the back of such a person and felt herself tensing as he reached for the man's purse. Cue her surprise when the man he was stealing from turned out to be the cloaked figure from before.

But something seemed different with him this time...he was standing _too_ still, and Ahnnie feared it was in anticipation of the sneaky little fingers reaching behind him. Alarm bells went off in her head and she hastily strode in their direction.

She arrived just as the man spun around with reflexive speed to ensnare the young wrist in a bronzed, olive hand. He barked a triumphant "Got you!", causing the boy to jump.

That voice seemed vaguely familiar, and that skin was so much like Krem's...a flash of mustache from beneath the hood confirmed her suspicions. "Dorian?"

The cloaked man gave a start. "What?" he barked into the crowd, unable to discern who had called to him, and the little ruffian slipped out of his grasp in that distracted second. "Drat! Oh, well, you lose some, you win some..."

Ahnnie tilted herself to the side, trying to get a better look under the hood. "Dorian?" she asked again. "Is that y-"

"Well don't go blaring my name about like a royal pronouncement!" he snapped. "Last I recalled, I was trying _not_ to make a public appearance. And if you have to ask if it's me, then it most likely _is_ me."

Her lips twitched in amusement. There was no mistaking the airy, unconcerned arrogance that had accosted them in Redcliffe's Chantry. Even his irritation seemed relaxed, his admonition more like a light-handed joke than a sharp reproach. "Sorry. Just wanted to be sure."

With a huff, Dorian smoothed out a crease in his cloak. "An amateur mistake, but one I can forgive...erm..." He turned about to face her, confused. "I'm sorry. I don't think we were properly introduced. You are...?"

"Everyone just calls me Ahnnie," she supplied.

"Ahnnie. Yes. Charmed-"

She tipped her head forward. "Likewise."

Dorian raised a brow, intrigued. "They've been teaching you court etiquette, I see."

"It's not one of my strong points," she blushed. "I just say whatever they tell me to say...How long have you been here, if I may ask?"

"Three days, but I've been out and about the Hinterlands all this time - nothing like hopping from inn to dirty inn and subsisting on piss disguised as beer to get the blood stimulated." He readjusted his hood and drew his cloak closer about him, smiling wryly.

"We have spiced wine in the commander's tent."

Light hazel eyes brightened as though gazing upon treasure. "Now that's a trap if I ever saw one! Let me guess: you're going to lure me in and throw a bag over my head before tying me up and throwing me into a cell, cursing my lineage and the people who share it all the while?"

"Oh, no, no, no! I was actually inviting you to come speak with us," she clarified with a hint of laughter. "We're not all hostile towards Tevinter...in fact, I have a friend who's from there. You said you'd keep in touch, plus you'll want to know what's going on."

"Oh? Did Alexius invite you to meet with him yet? I didn't hear anything..."

"No, it's, um, something else." She wasn't entirely sure they could speak of it in the open. "But Cassandra would love to have you, since you knew Magister Alexius."

"Something _else_?" Dorian rubbed his chin in thought. "Hmm. A sneaky Inquisition. I like the sound of that..."

She was shocked. "H-how do you know it's for something...sneaky?"

He looked at her incredulously for a moment before letting out a laugh. "Dear me! Could you possibly be as naive as I think you are? What other purpose would you want me for, if I couldn't give you creative ways to stab my old mentor in the back?"

Ahnnie blinked, completely taken aback. "R-right..." Despite the hilarity in his voice, she found it hard to reciprocate, and not just because he might have offended her. _He sure has an...interesting way of putting things. I wonder if he truly means it? I mean, he's not as sensitive as Felix, but at least..._ Speaking of the Magister's son, "I don't suppose you've seen Felix recently? Is he all right?"

Dorian shook his head. "I haven't seen him since I left Redcliffe. Kind of you to ask, though."

"No problem...we've actually been getting reports that he was sick, but I didn't know if you knew _how_ sick."

"Ah." Dorian sighed. "Well, that's...You see, Felix's sickness is not your normal everyday chronic illness. It's...I don't know if you've heard of it, but it's the Blight sickness."

"Like, from darkspawn?" she asked.

"Precisely," nodded Dorian. "He used to attend the University of Orlais you know, and was going with his mother to Hossberg for winter vacation when their party was attacked by hurlocks. The creatures were driven off, but his mother didn't make it. He caught the taint and has been wasting away ever since."

That sounded horrible. "Is there no way to cure it?"

"If there was, us Thedosians wouldn't be making such a fuss out of it," Dorian replied dryly. "Segregation, quarantine, abandonment, death...those are the treatments the Blight sickness more often elicits. Felix is one of the luckier ones. Even so, it's only a matter of time."

"I see..." _No wonder his father seemed so worried._ That didn't excuse Magister Aelxius' actions, of course, but to forego the dire precautions most people took with the infected, to overlook any worry of contagion, even striving to keep his sick son close - that took devotion. A sad thing conflict would soon be coming their way. Shaking the thought from her head, Ahnnie brought herself back to reality and asked the more important question: "So, do you want to come?"

She thought he might take a while to answer, given his earlier reservations. But surprisingly enough, perhaps pleasantly so, he nodded in agreement. "And remember, you promised me spiced wine!"

* * *

 

The time soon came when the Magister sent a messenger setting the date for the talks. It was a balmy day for winter, gentle and mellow yet still retaining the crisp frostiness characteristic of its season. The Inquisition went on horseback to a castle overlooking the village on a hill, dark and imposing.

"My lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived." The announcement echoed against the vaulted audience hall of Redcliffe castle like an ominous declaration.

Except for the crackling of a fire, everything else seemed deathly still. The white robed guards lining either side of the hall didn't help, so silent and unmoving they seemed to be statues. Their masks were extremely off-putting, too; horned and sharp, they reminded Ahnnie of Japanese oni masks, an image no self-respecting Orlesian would ever consider donning.

Alexius had been seated upon a throne, his form a dim silhouette against the roaring blaze in the hearth behind him. His son stood close by, and Enchanter Fiona, she noticed, directly off to the side of the throne's dais. As Ahnnie approached, Alexius rose to his feet and spread his arms in welcome. "My friend! It's so good to see you again. And your associates, of course," the Magister added, giving her companions a perfunctory bow. "I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."

Her associates consisted of Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, with two cloaked soldiers; a small envoy fitting for the occasion. She stood at the head of the group, the others close behind her and the soldiers bringing up the rear. She already knew what to say, using both common sense and previous rehearsals to construct the answer. "I am glad to see you too, Magister Gereon Alexius. We all look forward to seeing what can be accomplished with you today; we feared for a moment that you had forgotten all about us."

The Magister chuckled good-naturedly. "For which I sincerely apologize. I hope you'll forgive me; there've been many matters to attend to, so many things to do."

Ahnnie smiled back. "I hope your son, Felix, is doing well."

"He is, thank you."

Before they could exchange any more pleasantries, Enchanter Fiona cut in with a question - "Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"

A flash of disapproval crossed the Magister's face. "Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives," he reminded her.

Ahnnie looked from Enchanter to Magister, then back. "If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks," she began, "then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition."

There was a moment of weighty silence. Alexius did not seem pleased, but neither did he contradict her. Fiona, on the other hand, nodded gratefully in her direction. "Thank you."

Ahnnie nodded back in acknowledgement, face calm but chest thudding. It seemed a risky move to have spoken like that, especially of her own accord than any given instructions. Still, it gave her a measure of satisfaction; it felt like a show of the long overdue defiance to similar figures in her life, a moment of salvation won for the past. Alexius was beginning to remind her too much of that.

The Magister turned around to sit back on his throne. Crossing a leg, he looked down on the party with an almost bored expression. "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So...what shall you offer in exchange?"

Her heart's pace picked up again at that, but not because of nervousness. No, this time she was excited. For when it came to this part of the plan, it boiled down to one simple sentence. _S_ _ay whatever you want, so long as it buys us the time._

No stressing over the right thing to say; no need to memorize phrases, to rack her brain when she couldn't remember them, or fear any stuttering and stumbling; just whatever she had the inclination to say, so long as it gave them the time. She could now breath a calming sigh and relax the mental grip of anxiety, for she had the freedom to say what she wished, what was in her head and her heart, without any repercussions:

"Nothing at all. I'm just going to take the mages and leave."

The displeasure on his face was much more obvious now. "And how do you imagine you'll accomplish such a feat?" he asked, his voice grating.

"I _would_ just up and leave, but I heard that time magic is much faster."

Alexius' features contorted into a slideshow of confusion, horror, then fury. _Maybe I went too far,_ Ahnnie thought, but it was only a halfhearted regret. Her body tingled with a mischievous excitement, the likes of which she didn't think she could feel at the age of twenty. It took all her willpower to keep a straight face.

The Magister gripped the armrests of his throne. "How dare you-"

"She knows everything, Father." Felix turned to him, a remorseful yet grim expression planted on his features.

It took Alexius a while to process that, to have the realization dawn upon him like a slow, creeping chill. "Felix...what have you done?"

"He's concerned that you're involved in something terrible," Ahnnie answered, coming to Felix's defense. "He only did this because he cares-"

"So speaks the thief," the Magister spat. "Do you think you can turn my son against me?" Departing from his throne once more, he paced deliberately towards the edge of the dais, glaring down at Ahnnie and her group. "You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark - a gift you don't even understand! - and think you're in control? You're nothing but a mistake."

It took strength to glare back into those eyes. A part of her instinctively quaked at the acid in his voice, shrinking backwards with shame at the stinging remark - _nothing but a mistake..._ But she willed herself to quash it and remember that she wasn't here to be afraid. She was here to stall for time. "You know what happened to the Conclave, then?" she asked. "What caused the explosion; what created this mark; what killed the Divine...?"

"It was the Elder One's moment, and you were unworthy even to stand in his presence."

Ahnnie's eyes widened in shock, and she thought she could hear a startled gasp hiss from Cassandra. _The Elder One! So the Venatori are involved with him too?_ She had completely forgotten about him, banished any notions of him back to the farthest corners of her head. Now, though...

"Father!" Felix cried. "Listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?"

"He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be," a familiar voice supplied.

Alexius whipped his head in the voice's direction, eyes narrowing. "Dorian."

The Tevinter mage pulled back his hood, revealing himself as one of the cloaked soldiers. "Magister," he returned, dryly.

Alexius' jaw tightened. "I gave you a chance to be a part of this," he growled. "You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe; he will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

"Who is this Elder One?" Cassandra barked, unable to hold back her temper any longer. "A mage?"

"Soon he will become a god," Alexius intoned. "He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas..." The more he spoke, the more his rage was replaced with a wistful sort of glaze - still hostile, still sharp, but idyllic and hopeful at the same time.

"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona cried, horrified.

Dorian wholeheartedly agreed. "Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen!" He held out his hands pleadingly. "Why would you support this?"

The Magister glowered at the sight of his former pupil before turning away, as if disgusted; with his eyes preoccupied on the fire, he failed to notice the guards farthest down the hall quietly collapsing to their feet.

"Stop it, Father," Felix begged with a hand on Alexius' shoulder. "Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home."

"No!" Alexius whirled around again, desparate. "It's the only way, Felix. He can save you!"

"Save me?"

"There _is_ a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple..." He slowly turned towards Ahnnie, eyes haunted and hungry for something she knew she wouldn't be pleased about.

"I'm going to die," Felix stated plainly, his voice purposeful. "You need to accept that."

The Magister's breath caught and he looked for a moment as if he were about to choke. "Seize them, Venatori!" he then thundered, an accusatory finger thrust Ahnnie's way. "The Elder One demands this girl's life!"

 _No more flattery, I see,_ Ahnnie observed absentmindedly. Despite knowing what would happen next, she half expected the Venatori to surround them and capture the day...instead, as Alexius stared in horror, the Venatori guards fell forward to reveal green hooded Inquisition agents as their silent and quick assailants. Another agent slinked into the room from a side door and gave a quick report.

"Castle is secured, ser. All others captured or killed."

Ahnnie nodded at the agent and looked back at the Magister with a hard stare. "Your men are dead, Alexius."

The Magister shook his head and took a step backwards, as if he refused to believe the reality of what lay before him. "You...are a mistake!" he hissed. "You should never have existed!" As he spoke the last words, his hand crackled with a green-blue magic. He raised it upwards and a strange, cubic amulet floated from the center of his palm, glowing the same eerie green-blue and emitting sparks like a live wire.

"No!" Dorian shouted, whipping out the staff hidden on his back to throw a powerful swipe of magic the Magister's way.

He managed to stun Alexius, stopping whatever spell he was in the middle of casting and making the man dizzy in the process. But a loud explosion like a giant thunderclap or gunshot reverberated across the hall, sending vibrations through the floor that could be felt deep in the chest. A swirling green mass appeared in its wake, not a rift but dark and whirling like a deep emerald whirlpool.

Having been closest to it, Ahnnie suddenly felt herself hurled into weightlessness; she thought she could hear Dorian screaming beside her, but she could not tell. Everything seemed to consist of nothing but flashing green lights before receding into darkness...


	15. A Wrinkle in Time

_Splash!_

Out she fell into a faceful of cold water. With a startled gasp, Ahnnie scrambled to her feet, sopping wet and coughing like the devil was in her throat. She brusquely wiped her face and spat out any water she could feel on her tongue. After her coughs subsided it took an effort to straighten herself, especially with a pronounced ache in her side, but straighten she did and gave her surroundings a dazed, wide-eyed look.

 _It looks like a flooded cellar? No, a prison,_ she thought when she saw barred metal doors guarding empty cells. The room was small and dark, save for the glowing orange-red crystals jutting out from the walls. She wagered a guess that they were red lyrium.

The water shifted behind her and she whirled around in fright, withdrawing the glaive and holding it out defensively. Up from the shallow depths rose a soaked Dorian, cloak heavy and clinging. With a nonchalant grunt, he slipped it off and let it sink into the water. Ahnnie breathed a sigh of relief as she fully recognized him and lowered her weapon. He didn't seem to notice or care, though.

"Displacement?" he was murmuring, fingers tapping on his staff. "Interesting. It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us...to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?" He knelt down closer to the ankle-high water and frowned at it, as if he could feel the said energy within its murkiness.

Ahnnie stepped towards him, making little splashes as she went. "It didn't look like a rift to me."

Dorian shrugged. "Any hole in the fabric of existence is candidate for being labeled 'rift' in my book. Now let's see...last I remembered, we were in the castle hall. If we're still in the castle, it isn't...Oh!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet in a Eureka moment. "Of course! It's not simply where - it's when!"

"Wh-what?"

His voice grew excited as he explained his discovery to her. "Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!"

"Wh-what!?" Ahnnie repeated, eyes wider than before. "Did we go back? Or forward? And h-how far?"

"Those are _excellent_ questions," he praised. "We'll have to find out, won't we? Let's look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back...if we can."

* * *

 

They seemed to have been deposited into a neglected prison chamber. Ahnnie could only surmise that it was neglected, for who would let a prison fall into such stagnant conditions? The cell doors were rusted tight and rotten wooden crates lay smashed throughout. It was easy enough finding the way out, for the chamber only led forward, up to a little staircase guarded by a door. The door was conveniently unlocked and the pair stepped through to a small landing at the bottom of a larger staircase. Glowing red lyrium pulsated in a corner of the room and along the walls like angry red welts.

The more they went around these strange halls, the more evident it became that red lyrium was...everywhere. In the walls, on the floor, on the ceiling, clinging to the stone like tumorous growths. It made Ahnnie wonder whether the castle had already been infested when they arrived, or if the lyrium came later...how did red lyrium even grow? It wasn't like any crystal she'd ever seen or known of.

"Alexius has made a dreadful mess of this place, hasn't he?" Dorian remarked as they went through another desecrated hall for the umpteenth time. "Before, it was covered in the tackiest carvings of wolves and dogs I'd ever seen. This is not an improvement."

 _Ah, Dorian,_ Ahnnie sighed - _perhaps the situation isn't so bad if you're criticizing the interior decor._ His very presence was an anchor to her morale, which would have plummeted drastically had she been alone. The place was creepy enough with company.

"Oh, what's this?" Dorian mused as they came to a door with whitish light glowing between its crevices. "Well, this is certainly new. Perhaps we've reached our destination; assuming we were even going in a particular direction to begin with."

Ahnnie shrugged. "Let's open it?"

"If it's not locked-" He tested the knob, and luckily, it wasn't. "-very good! I think we're making progress!"

They both stepped through into a vaulted chamber illuminated with the whitish light by an unknown source and shielded their eyes a moment as they transitioned from the earlier dimness. The sound of crashing water indicated two long falls directly ahead of them, and the flooring of the chamber was actually stone and grated metal forming a suspended bridge above a sloshing pool.

The bridge led them three ways; straight to a raised drawbridge, and left and right to two doors...both of which were guarded by Venatori.

"Shit!" Dorian hissed as he realized his mistake. Neither of them had noticed the guards until the silver masked men left their posts and started rushing at them. Ahnnie whipped out her glaive again and rushed forward so as not to be crushed against the doorway when the battle came. She was assisted in her endeavor by two flaming missiles that knocked into both guards. A lucky thing these guards weren't mages.

She blocked her guard's sword with twists and turns of the glaive, aiming to trap his weapon in its hook. Foreign fighting styles would not distract her now, though she had to admit that the Tevinter style was pleasant to watch. She misread his next move, however, and fell for his feint; he thrust his blade forward for what would have been her side had she not tipped the glaive's shaft in time for a clumsy block. Nonplussed, she was about to draw back and form a counter plan when she noticed how dangerously close they both were coming to the edge.

With a nervous hop-step, she avoided his sweeping foot at the last moment and swung her glaive before her in defense. Corporal Hargrave's voice ringing in her ear, she pushed the hook of her glaive forward while the guard was attempting another kick and watched it catch the sword's edge, before twisting it downward and roughly shoving him towards the precipice. Her heart beat with anticipation as she watched him careening and flailing, and she froze, not quite ready to deliver the final blow, when a bolt of fire did it for her.

It took a while before she heard the splash, and butterflies tickled her stomach as she thought of how far the drop was.

Ahnnie whirled around to see that Dorian had made record time with his guard, who was smoking crisply on the bridge. An amused smirk curved beneath the dark mustache. "About time. Here I thought you would keep me waiting longer."

She gulped, not one for humor at the moment. "What now?"

"Well, we have two choices..." He pointed to the doors. "Left, or right. Forward is not an option at the moment."

Ahnnie looked in both directions and wondered what the Venatori were guarding. "We should probably hurry before someone realizes what's up...um, let's take the right door?"

"Of course, but first thing's first." He knelt down by the charred Venatori and rifled through the corpse's pockets. "These should come in handy," he remarked as he withdrew a ring of keys. "And, oh...what's this?"

Ahnnie's eyes widened at the black and silver box Dorian pilfered from the guard's belt. It was punctuated on the top left with a long rubber antenna and modified slightly in the middle with a strange aquamarine glass.

"A _walkie-talkie_!?" she exclaimed.

"A what-what?" Dorian asked.

She knelt down beside him and touched the thing with trembling fingers. "It's...it's a modern invention...from Earth! But why is it here? What...what is it doing in Thedas?"

The surface of the aquamarine glass suddenly shifted, and the barest outlines of a Venatori mask were coming into play. Rather than static, there was a sort of crystalline ringing emanating from the speaker, and a clear voice began pulsing through.

Before they could hear what was said, though, Dorian slid the walkie-talkie across the floor with a grim face. "I see. It's a communication device. I don't suppose these walkie-whatsits came with memory crystals where you're from?"

"Memory...?" She shook her head. "No. But interactive screens aren't too far from the mark."

The Tevinter mage rose to his feet and gestured for her to do the same. "Come, let's go through that door...I have a feeling we don't have much time left."

* * *

 

 _Why would walkie-talkies be in Thedas?_ She frowned as she entered a small antechamber behind Dorian, watching as he carefully shut the door and stuffed the keys into his pocket. _Why_ just _walkie-talkies? Those guards fought with swords; if the Venatori now has access to Earth devices, then why not go all out with guns? Why even continue using regular keys when there's card scans, fingerprint scans,_ _hell, retina scans?_

The more Ahnnie thought of it, the more it seemed as though the Venatori had recently discovered Earth technology. Perhaps they were experimenting with it - picking and choosing which aspects to use whilst adding their own, like the magic crystal screen - she didn't know how much time had passed, after all. If this was the past, then they had been aware of Earth as she feared. If this was the future...

 _Magic can actually do the same as a lot of other stuff on Earth, perhaps even better,_ she thought, trying to downplay her anxiety; although the Venatori picked up on the instant communication part, which Ahnnie remembered not being a feature of Thedas until now.

They exited the antechamber into yet another one that presented them with two metallic doors to choose from. Dorian inserted a key into the nearest one and slowly slid it open. Its hinges were newly oiled, so it made little to no sound. It didn't matter anyway, for a voice filled the empty space the moment the door was opened.

"...the Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next."

Ahnnie stiffened. She recognized the voice...but not the grainy undertone.

Dorian entered first, staff held out defensively; Ahnnie followed with hesitant footsteps, bewildered eyes taking in the scene of another prison, but not neglected this time.

"For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water," the voice continued to echo. Every word sent chills down Ahnnie's spine.

As far as she knew, the prison cells here were empty, save for whoever was speaking. She was proved wrong when she saw an unconscious man in a cell to their right...but then it occurred to her that he might actually be dead. Ahnnie looked back ahead and tried to forget him. The voice continued to pray in the meanwhile, growing louder as they advanced. They finally came to its source, trapped behind yet another prison cell. Sitting in it, worn, exhausted, emaciated, was Seeker Cassandra.

"C-Cassandra!" Ahnnie choked, dropping to her knees by the bars. "What happened to you?"

The Seeker, once proud and robust, was now reduced to a shell of her former self. Her eyes were gaunt and dark, like a person starved of sleep, and her once supple limbs hung limp in defeat. Her hair had grown out as well, but was shabbily cared for. Most unnerving of all was an eerie red glow emanating from her person. She slowly looked up at the girl, crimson smoke swirling about her thin cheekbones and caressing the lower corners of her eyes.

"Ahnnie?" she murmured. "You've returned to us...can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?"

"Cassandra, what happened?" Ahnnie repeated, desperate.

The woman lowered her head in what looked like shame. "Maker forgive me. I failed you; I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life."

"Dead? I - I didn't die," Ahnnie protested. She shook her head. "That doesn't matter. You're hurt! We can help...Dorian, do you think one of those keys can open the cell?"

The Tevinter mage bent down to the door's lock and tried it out. As he was twisting key after key, Cassandra stared hopelessly at them through the bars. "Nothing you do can help me now," she said. "I'll be with the Maker soon."

But at last, the door swung forward, and prison bars obstructed them no longer. Ahnnie dove in and helped the Seeker to her feet, not taking no for an answer.

"Alexius has sent us forward in time," Dorian deduced from the Seeker's state. "If we find him, we may be able to return to the present."

Cassandra shot up more quickly at that, and some of the former sharpness returned to her eyes. "Go back in time? Then...can you make it so that none of this ever took place?"

"We would have to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here," Dorian explained. "If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left. Maybe."

"Then we must find it posthaste-"

"I said _maybe_ ," Dorian reminded her. "It might also turn us into paste."

"Still, you must try," Cassandra insisted spiritedly. "Any chance we have at all is worth the risk."

It relieved Ahnnie to see that some of the fire still remained in the older woman. She met those fierce eyes and nodded with a firm resolve. "We'll do our best, that I promise. Could you..." She suddenly faltered, wondering if she really wanted to know. "Could you tell us what happened?"

Cassandra's eyes grew grim again. "Alexius' master...after you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising. Empress Celene was murdered. The army that swept in afterwards - it was a horde of demons, followed by the most destructive warfare anyone had ever seen. Nothing stopped them. Nothing."

Ahnnie gulped. She had a bad feeling she knew what the 'destructive warfare' was. "What about the others - did they make it? Are they here too?"

The answer cut more deeply than expected: "I do not know. Most of us in the Inquisition were captured, some killed. I have lost track since...since I came here. The only thing I do know is that Varric and Blackwall are kept further down the hall."

"We must get to them!" Ahnnie wasted no time in rushing down that direction, moving so quickly neither Dorian nor Cassandra had time to react. She zipped past the cells until she spotted a familiar squat figure sitting within one, whom she startled into looking up as she skidded to a stop.

"Andraste's sacred kickers," Varric swore, smoky voice more hoarse than it used to be. Like the Seeker, he also seemed weakened and had that strange red glow about him. "You're alive?"

"Yes," Ahnnie breathed, a relieved smile playing on her lips, "I am."

"Where were you? How did you escape?"

Dorian jogged up from behind and put the keys to work. "We didn't escape," he clarified. "Alexius sent us into the future."

The door swung open with a satisfying squeal. Varric got up to his feet and grinned from ear to ear. "Everything that happens to you is weird." Upon spotting Cassandra coming up behind Dorian, the dwarf gave her a reverent nod. "Long time no see, Seeker. Or at least, not freely. How've you been?"

"As good as anyone who's been imprisoned here," she responded dryly.

"Where's Blackwall?" Ahnnie asked, looking about the cells.

The smile fell from Varric's face. "Yeah...about Blackwall...you probably don't want to see him. He's..."

"Has he succumbed to it?" Cassandra asked softly.

"Well, they haven't carted him out yet," Varric pointed out, "but that's no real consolation, now is it?"

Ahnnie gulped, one thought leading to another. "What about...Solas?"

Both Seeker and dwarf were silent for a moment, which Varric later broke with a dry chuckle. "Oh, him? I dunno. No one's heard from him since this all started. Try not to let it get to you, kiddo...it ain't gonna help you any. Trust me."

Ahnnie looked from Cassandra to Varric. It made her wonder if Blackwall suffered from the same affliction as theirs. As for Solas...she could only hope he managed to evade it all. "What's happened to you?" she asked them both sadly.

"Bite your tongue," Varric chided. "I look damn good for a dead man."

"You're no more dead than we are," Dorian remarked.

The dwarf shook his head. "The not-dying version of this red lyrium stuff? Way worse. Just saying."

Ahnnie stiffened. "Red lyrium? Is that what-"

But a hand on her shoulder kept her question unfinished. "Do not concern yourself with that. Find Alexius and reverse this horrible reality - then it will never have to be."

 _Cassandra..._ even after all that had happened to her, she still tried to keep Ahnnie's thoughts from wandering too far. Just what she was trying to distract from, however, unnerved the girl deeply.

"You want to take on Alexius?" Varric piped up, cutting through those troubled thoughts. "I'm in. Let's go."

Cassandra gave him a resolute nod. "Alexius locks himself in the throne room these days. That is where we'll find him."

"Why am I not surprised?" Dorian sighed, and turned around to lead the way out of the prison. "First thing's first; we'll have to get the both of you armed. There's a dead guard outside who doesn't need his sword anymore. A pity the other one fell into the water, otherwise-"

"Freeze!"

As if in response, a chill ran down Ahnnie's spine. She whirled around with Cassandra and Varric to find a Venatori guard standing before them, a sleek black pistol steady in his hands and trained upon the middle of their group.

"I don't think you understand how that spell works," Dorian joked as he brought his staff forward for an actual spell.

"Wait!" Ahnnie cried, but pushed the staff aside a hair too late. Though it was muffled by a suppressor, the crack of the gunshot was unmistakable. She found herself flinching and shutting her eyes instinctively upon hearing the noise. The weight of Dorian's stumble was what startled them open again, and for one dreadful millisecond, she feared he had been fatally struck.

The crimson blooming across his shoulder told her he hadn't, but he was no less hurt. "Damn," he ground out, and quickly recomposed the grip on his staff to aim a spell.

But the guard was quicker than that. It only took a slight raise of the arm, and his pistol was up for another round. It was Ahnnie's equally quick hands, raised into the air, that gave him pause.

"We surrender," she blurted out. "Please. Don't shoot." She unstrapped her glaive and dropped to her knees for good measure.

Dorian looked at her as though she'd gone mad. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Just do it," she hissed back, and forcefully pulled the staff out of his hands. "He only needs to press that trigger, and you'll be dead in an instant."

Varric and Cassandra adopted the same stances, eyeing the pistol warily. Dorian complied only after watching them go down, sinking slowly with an unpleasant grimace on his face.

The Venatori's shoulders relaxed upon seeing them submit. "Trouble in Sector D," he reported to a mic on his collar, an action evident through his mask by the slight turn of his head. "Two intruders have released two of the subjects-"

A little shape suddenly dashed for the guard's side opposite the mic. In a forceful tackle, Varric knocked the guard down onto his back. The dreaded pistol flew through the air but Cassandra's hands caught it before it could make contact with the ground. The downed guard made a flailing grab for a taser in his belt, but Varric beat him to it and tased him repeatedly between his armor. He then tore off the helmet and grabbed the guard by the collar, finishing his assault with an angry slam of the helmet to the man's exposed temple.

The dwarf spat as he rose to his feet, dumping the Venatori unceremoniously on the stone floor in the process. "You were saying something about weapons?" he asked with a look back at Dorian.

"Here." Cassandra gave the pistol to him. "You could probably make more use of this than I ever would."

"Just like old times, eh, Seeker?" Varric chuckled as he tested the weight of the pistol in his hands. Then he sighed. "Ah, do I miss Bianca..."

Cassandra went immediately for the guard's sword belt, hesitating slightly at the taser but picking it up anyway. She tested it by pressing the button on its side and flinched when it made a sharp crackle. Then she put it into its slot in the belt, satisfied. "How did you know to surrender so quickly?" she asked Ahnnie, curious. "You said you were sent straight to the future from the meeting with Alexius. You couldn't have been here when these things were first used..."

The girl blinked and looked up at the Seeker. "It's a gun," she said at last, strapping the glaive back on as she did so. "Where I come from, it's a common weapon."

Varric raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't mean..."

"Maker!" Dorian swore. "The Venatori can access other worlds now."

Remembering Dorian, Ahnnie zeroed in on his shoulder. "O-oh no! You got hit-" But when she parted the fabric, she found it was only a graze. "Okay, that's better than I thought. But yeah...word of caution...guns shoot metal things called bullets. They're small but have the force to pierce through people faster than the blink of an eye."

Dorian winced as he got back up to his feet, using his staff as support. "What an...interesting world you used to live in." Despite the gist of his remark, something in his tone told her he was not liable to underestimate firearms again.

"We must leave, now," Cassandra barked, "before reinforcements show up. And believe me, they are coming soon."

"Oh, I believe you," Ahnnie said as they began to head out. "Mics and walkie-talkies are common communication devices where I come from, too."

"Damn. Makes me wonder what other monstrosity they took from your world," Varric remarked.

 _I hope we don't have to find out,_ she thought with a shudder.

* * *

 

Ahnnie and Dorian found themselves back on the bridge above the floor of water, having discovered no other way out. The other metal door in the antechamber led into yet another prison, which they quickly left behind when one of the prisoners - or, 'subjects' - started loudly protesting their presence.

The moment they stepped onto the bridge, it was to find the drawbridge from before lowered with several armed Venatori pouring down it. Dorian raised his staff and swept it down in an encompassing arc before him. A border of fire erupted between their group and the Venatori, buying them the advantage of confusion for a few precious seconds. Varric shot into the wall of flames while Dorian hurled as many strikes as he could to push as many guards possible off the bridge.

At the same time, stray shots rang out from the Venatori's side. Ahnnie weaved and ducked and jumped each time she heard one, heart close to stopping whenever a sharp _zing_ or _clink_ echoed on the metal grating or stone close by. It prevented her from coming close to the thick of the battle; Cassandra, on the other hand, made a mad zig-zagging dash through the smoke and successfully connected her blade to one of the guards.

When the last one was dealt with, it took them all a few moments of apprehension, squinting through the smoke, before they were comfortable enough to move forward.

"It should lead to the guard's barracks," Cassandra remarked breathlessly, pointing at the drawbridge.

"There weren't that many of them out here," Dorian frowned. "I don't think I'd relish running into the rest of their colleagues."

"That way's just another prison," Varric said when Dorian moved his eyes to the door leading left. "Nothing useful there, unless you want to free a few more prisoners."

Dorian looked ahead, and then back. "It'd be nice to amass a force," he murmured, "but...damn if we don't have the time. I don't suppose you know anyone who's kept in there?"

Varric shook his head. "I used to be there in a cell next to Sera, but...well, she's gone now. Other than that, I don't know a single person."

Ahnnie's jaw tightened. _No, S_ _era..._ It was hard to imagine the eccentric Red Jenny just...gone. Of all the companions, Sera seemed the most foolhardy. It made her wonder what fate befell the Iron Bull and his Chargers, if even this was enough to bring down Sera. "Forward, then?" she asked weakly, looking up at Cassandra. _Just like old times,_ she thought, before mentally shaking it away. _What am I saying? It's been less than a day for me. C'mon, Ahnnie, stop making things feel worse than they already are._

"That is our best bet," the Seeker affirmed. "I heard the guards keep a sort of drug that boosts one's strength and energy. It would be beneficial for Varric and I to take some."

 _That doesn't sound suspicious at all,_ Ahnnie thought dryly as they went up the drawbridge. The door at the landing was open and admitted them into what looked like a moderately sized dining space, room enough for ten people at a time. Like the rest of the castle, nothing seemed different or off in the furnishings. It was a regular stone room decorated by a single wolf tapestry hanging on the opposite wall. One could hardly tell that Earthen technology had been utilized by its inhabitants; besides a gun rack off to the side, of course, and a red cross emblazoned first aid station.

But the most unnerving thing of all was that the place was empty. It truly appeared as if the guards they just fought had been the only ones there. The four of them fanned out and slowly crept forward, weapons drawn and ready. Ahnnie tensed with every step, expecting enemy reinforcements to burst out at any moment.

Then she heard the sound of a bottle of pills being shaken. "I wouldn't touch any of those if I were you," she warned, whipping her head towards the first aid station. "Drugs are...are just, no - no, I wouldn't. Especially if you can't read what's on the label. That bottle looks like most of it's in English, anyway."

Varric glanced at her with a cocked brow. "So that's what those strange runes are? And here I thought they were some form of ancient Tevene. Maybe you can read them-" And he tossed the bottle in her direction, startling her.

She was able to grab hold of it only after chasing it halfway under a dining table. "Um, it looks like ibuprofen," she called out after straightening up. "It's a painkiller. I don't know if '200mg' is anything powerful, but ibuprofen's not really strong stuff...just for headaches and fevers and whatnot."

Cassandra stopped her pacing and looked over her shoulder at Ahnnie. "Perhaps you can identify the drug we are looking for in that cabinet?"

"It doesn't look like it'd be in there," Ahnnie said. "The red cross means it's just first aid." _Or, well, it should be..._ but she was averse to giving either of her companions strange drugs, especially something that purportedly boosted energy.

The Seeker shrugged and turned back around. "Very well, then. Keep searching the premises. We must be sure we are truly alone here."

Ahnnie obeyed and put the ibuprofen down on the table before making her way to the nearest door. There seemed to be several of them accessible down the room, perfect places to hide more people. "Hey, Varric, if you don't mind coming with me..." She wasn't about to barge into a room potentially containing gunman armed with just a glaive, after all.

"No problem. Just let me get some ammo." It took him about a minute before he was by her side, pistol cocked and ready. She gazed at his back as he slowly opened the door, watching him point the pistol this way and that. "All clear," he assured her, and lowered his weapon.

Ahnnie took a step forward, taking in what looked like a study. "You seem to know a bit about guns?" she asked as she walked over to a desk, eyeing the papers on its surface.

"I've been watching how the guards use them," he explained. "Plus I handled a few before getting caught...Didn't want those bastards having the upper hand over all of us, even if it was just one or two pilfered here and there. It was bad enough losing Bianca."

She recognized the distinct shape of a manila folder amongst the papers, yet continued listening to him. "I'm sorry," she sighed as she opened the folder.

"What're you sorry for?" he chuckled hoarsely. "It's not like you wanted any of this."

"I know, but...to think all this happened because Dorian and I disappeared that day..."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault. What'd I tell ya?"

She cracked a smile. "Don't let it get to me. I kn..." She paused, bending down in the sparse light to make out the papers within the folder. _Hold up. It's in English. Very complicated English...s_ quinting, she skimmed through the wordy document, bypassing word after scientific word.

_Subject. Respiratory. Sepsis, hypovolemic shock, cardiac arrest, seizure, trauma, cognitive-_

_Red lyrium-_

_Fiona._

Ahnnie's frown grew in intensity as she flipped through more papers. It soon grew apparent that this file was a log of all the 'subjects'. She recognized Cassandra and Varric's names farther down the line and read a few paragraphs that sickened her, but went back to the entry containing Fiona's name. What made it stand out was that it was placed near the top instead of alphabetically like the rest, and unlike the other subjects, Fiona had not been kept in the prisons - or 'sectors', as the Venatori guard had called them.

Rather, she was kept in a _Room E, testing chambers..._

Fired up by this discovery, Ahnnie put down the file and went behind the desk, flipping over papers, pulling out drawer after drawer.

"What're you doing?" Varric asked, bewildered.

"You didn't tell me you were being _experimented_ on," she accused, voice on the verge of choking.

Varric opened his mouth to say something, faltered, and then heaved a sigh. "Look, it wasn't something you needed to know..."

She finally believed she found what she was searching for and slapped the paper down with such force that her heart jumped. It was a map, and it, too, was in English. The label 'TESTING CHAMBERS' stuck out like a sore thumb. "By god," Ahnnie breathed. "Fiona's somewhere close by!"

"What-"

But before Varric could finish his question, she'd grabbed the map and dashed out of the study. Varric raced after her, alarmed.

"Hey! Hold up! Where're you going?" he called after her, alerting both Cassandra and Dorian at the same time. His voice seemed to fall on deaf ears, though; Ahnnie followed the hallway, rotating the map every time she made a corresponding turn, and within three minutes stopped before the door she was looking for.

ROOM E.

She reached for the knob, but it was locked tight.

"You forgot the keys in your rush," Varric pointed out to her, jogging breathlessly to her side.

"Oh..." Before she could take them, he unlocked the door for her anyway.

"Just make it quick," he said. "Cassandra's getting pissed back there. Better sate your curiosity before she catches up to you."

"...thanks." Ahnnie rolled the map up in her fist and pushed through the door, immediately bathing herself in a pulsing orange-red light. It hurt her eyes, not in a blinding way, but in more of a subtle ache; it was _everywhere_ ; and when she looked up, blinking through tears, a large mass of red lyrium growing through the floor and walls like a mutated stalagmite greeted her. She would not have thought anyone was trapped in it, if not for the dark ball of hair peeking between the angry red crystals. "Fiona?" she whispered, horrified.

The hair flinched and turned around, revealing a pinched and sallow face. "It's...it's you! You're...alive?" The Orlesian accent was still distinct even in Fiona's weak rasp. "How? I saw you...disappear..."

"What happened to you!?" Ahnnie cried upon realizing Fiona wasn't just trapped in the lyrium - it was growing from _within_ her _._

"Red lyrium...it's a disease. The longer you're near it...eventually...you become this." A shudder. "Then they mine your corpse for more."

The girl put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god." _I feel sick..._

"Alexius...serves the Elder One," Fiona continued. "More powerful...than the Maker...no one challenges him...and lives."

"Alexius..." Just the very thought of him was enough to make her blood boil. That wasn't even mentioning the ever mysterious Elder One. "We'll stop him and do what we can to set this right," she promised, using anger to keep her nausea down.

The former Grand Enchanter grimaced. "How...?"

"It was time magic that sent me and Dorian here," Ahnnie explained. "He believes if we can get to Alexius, we can turn back time."

For a moment, Fiona's eyes widened with excitement. "Please, do what you can...for all our sakes. Your spymaster, Leliana...she is here...find her! Quickly...before the Elder One...learns you're here."

"Leliana?" Ahnnie perked up. "Where?"

"She is...in what they call..."- a cough -"Room... _Z_..."

Ahnnie frowned. "Fiona? Are you all right?"

But the Enchanter didn't respond; she groaned, shuddered, and groaned some more. Ahnnie took a step forward, decided against it, and stepped back again. "I...I promise we'll fix this! Please don't...die..." But it was futile. The Enchanter likely didn't hear her, and was on the verge of death anyways. Choking back tears, Ahnnie whirled around and sped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"You didn't have to know," Varric murmured softly with a comforting hand on her arm.

"Indeed, that was very rash of you," Cassandra admonished from down the hall; she soon appeared alongside Dorian, clearly unhappy.

Ahnnie took a big sniff and shook her head. "I know. I'm sorry. But...we need to get to Room Z. Leliana's in there."

* * *

 

Two voices could be heard in the hall leading up to Room Z. Both were female, and both were heated.

"There is no Maker. The Elder One has taken all that is His and will soon rule from His city."

"That still doesn't make him a god."

A loud slap carried beyond the door, followed by a pained exclamation.

"There is no god but the Elder One. The Maker is dead! Say it!"

"Never!"

This time, it was the crackle of electricity. "There's no use to this defiance, little bird. There's no one left for you to protect."

Ahnnie reached the door by then and simply pushed it open; whoever was in there had been careless enough to leave it cracked open. _Careless, or relaxed?_ She drew out her weapon, and so did the others.

A woman with a tight blond bun and white lab coat took hold of a syringe on a nearby table. "You will break!"

The woman's victim, in contrast, was held suspended by the hands via a contraption of Thedosian make. "I will _die_ first!" she spat, and the voice was unmistakable; once delicate, it now held a jagged edge. If that wasn't enough of an indicator, her coppery red hair gleamed in the dim firelight, just as it had so many times in Haven's war room. But the once smooth and beautiful skin was tarnished - through the stresses of many tortures, Leliana looked like an aged zombie recently returned from the dead.

Ahnnie pushed the door aside with a bang and gaped at the Inquisition's spymaster in horror; the woman in the lab coat whirled around in response, presenting her back to Leliana.

"Or you will," the spymaster declared, and with an abdominal heave, used her legs to trap the woman's neck in a scissor-lock. A struggle ensued that lasted all of several seconds before a loud _snap_ pierced the room and the woman fell to the floor unconscious. Ahnnie stared wide-eyed at the scene before having the presence of mind to loot for keys. She avoided looking at the woman's neck, but a brief glimpse at the nameplate on the coat read _Dr. Calpernia Rowland._

 _Is this the same doctor who's been conducting all these experiments?_ she wondered in disgust. It felt gratifying yet perturbing to put a name to the notes in the manila folder. She finally found a set of keys in one of the pockets and stood on a stool to reach the cuffs on Leliana's wrists.

"You're alive," the spymaster whispered.

"You're tough," Ahnnie returned, and jumped off the stool as soon as the cuffs were unlocked. She moved to catch Leliana, but the redhead stood square and waved her hands away.

"Anger is stronger than any pain. Do you have weapons?"

Ahnnie nodded. "There're some back at the barracks, not too far from here."

"Good," Leliana commented. "The magister's probably in his chambers." Without further ado, she went to rifle through one of the cabinets as though nothing more than a minor trouble had inconvenienced her.

"Um, are you all right?" Ahnnie asked. "Don't you want to rest first?"

"The doctor gave me an injection of amphetamine," Leliana replied. "I should be fine for quite a bit." She withdrew two syringes, put needles to them, and tossed them over to Cassandra and Varric. "Inject these through a vein in your arm. Any vein will do. You'll need it. What about you?" she asked of Ahnnie and Dorian.

Ahnnie shook her head. "No thanks, we're fine." Then she looked away, suddenly squeamish at the sight of medical needles.

Beside her, Dorian gave Leliana a quizzical look. "You...aren't curious how we got here?"

"No."

"Alexius sent us into the future," Dorian explained anyway. "This, his victory, his Elder One - it was never meant to be."

Leliana's eyes darkened. "And mages always wonder why people fear them...no one should have this power."

"It's dangerous and unpredictable," Dorian agreed. "Before the Breach, nothing we did-"

"Enough!" she snapped. "This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist." She glared at the Tevinter mage, steel blue eyes glinting dangerously in the orange light. "I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was _real_."

"That's exactly what makes it so scary," Ahnnie murmured, and looked up pleadingly into the spymaster's haunted orbs. "Leliana...I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. He's not trying to say it isn't real, but...if we can do what we can to undo it, then..."

"We're done," Cassandra announced from the other side of the room. The pointed look in her eyes told Ahnnie she didn't wish the argument to be dragged any further.

Leliana nodded and strode for the door. "Follow me."

"Do you know how to get to where Alexius is?" Ahnnie asked. The map in her hand only detailed the floor they were currently on, and beyond that, the castle was one big maze of halls to her.

"We mounted a siege on Redcliffe Castle shortly after you disappeared," said Leliana. "Of course I would know. Just follow my lead, and we'll find the magister soon enough."

The ice in her tone promised that Alexius would regret being found.

* * *

 

Varric sucked in a disbelieving breath. "Maker's balls...this place is wrecked."

"What happened here?" Ahnnie asked, incredulous.

Leliana surveyed the scene before stalking forward with her bow held ready. "Perhaps Alexius isn't as well-off as we'd imagined."

Ahnnie followed close behind the spymaster and had to agree with her point. The courtyard was in shambles; it looked like a war zone from one of those pictures in the news back home. Broken stone littered the ground and black scorch marks marred the corners. Looming in the distance were what had once been the Castle towers; now they were just broken cylinders of stone, gaping like jagged teeth at the overcast sky above.

 _The wing we just left seemed perfectly fine,_ Ahnnie thought. _There were guards and even a mad scientist..._ but then it might explain why there were so few of the guards. "You didn't know any of this was happening?" she asked at last, addressing Leliana, Cassandra, and Varric.

"How could we?" Cassandra countered.

"But the guards _did_ seem more jumpy than usual," Varric supplied after some thought.

"Hmm." Ahnnie brought her attention back to their derelict surroundings, puzzled. Then a flutter of movement made her turn sharply to the right, and a split second later, a bright green rift exploded in the air.

"Demons!" Dorian cried, and they all grouped together instinctively as a pair of terror demons began spawning from the ground.

The injections of amphetamine had indeed made Cassandra and Varric more energized than they previously were. With an angry cry, the Seeker rushed into battle as ferociously as Ahnnie remembered. Varric tested a bullet on one of the demons, and then another, working up to a vital spot in its forehead, daring to come as close as Cassandra and even employing some of his familiar acrobatics. Leliana stood behind him, firing arrows - despite the range of availability between pistols and rifles, she had adamantly refused to pick up a firearm. A stubborn loyalty to the time before the chaos, but one Ahnnie hoped wouldn't be her undoing.

The girl ducked out of the path of one of Dorian's fireballs as she rushed to join Cassandra. After a series of slashes and stabs to the demon's stilt-like legs, they brought the monster down to be finished off by a sword through the torso. Ahnnie thrust her left hand at the rift shortly after, relishing for once the eerie pull of the mark to the rift.

Dorian watched the neon green mass explode with troubled eyes. "This is madness. Alexius can't have wanted this."

"As if he knew what he wanted in the first place," Leliana growled.

They continued on their way more wary than before. Passing into a hall, they found the inside no better than the outside: crumbling, charred, abandoned...at a certain point, Dorian had to light his staff with some fire since the sconces had been left unlit and the grey sky outside gave up little to no light through the windows.

Varric suddenly shot into the darkness, startling Ahnnie. "We got more company," he warned, and the screeching roar of a shade echoed from the darkness ahead.

Dorian sent balls of flame soaring down the hall, illuminating the dark limbs of three shades gliding on the stone. Leliana asked him to light his staff again and lit several arrows before loosing them onto the demons. The now burning shades became easier targets, and Ahnnie and Cassandra dove in a moment later to help get rid of them.

"There must be a rift here somewhere," Ahnnie thought aloud after they finished off the shades; for ahead in the distance, she could hear the screeching of several more.

"Can you sense one?" Cassandra asked.

The girl held out her hand, the mark of which held a steady green glow in the darkness, and shook her head. "The mark's not vibrating. Perhaps, if there is one, it's too far away."

"Rift or no rift, we'll just have to cut the demons down as we go," Leliana put in and continued leading the way. "The throne room is not far from here."

"Is Alexius even here after all?" Dorian ventured to ask as he trailed behind the spymaster. "This place looks..."

"Do I look like I'd send us all on a fool's errand?" Leliana retorted over her shoulder. "He's been in recent communication with the doctor. I should know; she liked to rub it in my face along with her Elder One shit every time she saw me."

Dorian blinked. "Well, sorry," he mumbled. "It was just a question."

Leliana huffed and turned back around. "Bring that flame closer," she ordered, and Dorian (most unhappily) walked faster to fall into step beside her.

They were all silent after that exchange, keeping their eyes and ears peeled instead for further enemies. After a while, they crossed into a large hall, and Leliana pointed at the towering door ahead of them. "There, the throne room." Even if she didn't say it, Ahnnie recognized the place they were standing in as the main hall of Redcliffe Castle. _A servant met us at the door and led us through here...he offered to take my cloak after he saw it had been soiled with mud._ Strange how important the little details became in random moments.

The five of them walked hesitantly up to the door, but when Varric pushed at it, it didn't budge. "Hmm." The dwarf slammed himself against it again, and then again. "Whatever Alexius' done with it, it's shut tight."

"No," Dorian argued, and felt it with his hand. "He's inscribed it with glyphs that only magic can open." His staff lit up with a whitish-blue light, and the etchings in the door suddenly glowed with the same. A circular device set in at the top creaked and spun, and the door itself opened up obediently. "There we go."

The throne room was just as Ahnnie remembered it, if not a little more tattered. A bright fire still burned in the hearth behind the dais, illuminating the figure of a well built man and a hunched one kneeling off to the side. The throne was gone, but the first man stood in its place with his back to the group. The large mechanic doors shut themselves as soon as the group were halfway to the dais, its ominous thud echoing against the vaulted ceiling.

"Alexius," Ahnnie called out; for who else could that man be? "It's over. We've found you."

"So it is," he acknowledged. He looked at her from over his shoulder. "I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn't destroyed you." He turned back to the fire. "My final failure," he whispered.

"Was it worth it?" Dorian asked. "Everything you did to the world? To yourself?"

"It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end."

Ahnnie frowned. "'The end'?" she echoed. "What do you mean by that?"

Alexius gave a wry chuckle. "The irony that you should appear _now,_ of all the possibilities. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death," he spat. "There is nothing else. The Elder One comes; for me, for you, for us all."

As the Magister spoke, Leliana stormed up the dais to the kneeling man. In an angry yank, she pulled him up from behind by the collar and slipped a dagger to his throat. The man was limp and unresponsive; if he was aware of what was happening, he didn't seem to show it. His eyes merely stared out at the throne room emotionlessly, not even blinking - a human vegetable. Alexius noticed from the corner of his eye a moment too late and whirled around in alarm.

"Felix!" he cried.

Dorian stared at the pale, blank-faced man with incredulity. "That's _Felix_? Maker's Breath, Alexius, what have you done?"

"He would have died, Dorian!" Alexius insisted. "Dr. Rowland _saved_ him!" To Leliana, he begged, "Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask."

Ahnnie's frantic gaze went from Alexius to Felix and back again. "If you hand over the amulet, we will let him go," she quickly said, training her eyes next on Leliana, pleading silently that the spymaster would stay her hand.

"Let him go and I swear you'll get what you want," Alexius promised.

Leliana gave Ahnnie a sidelong glance before glaring back at the Magister. For a moment, Ahnnie believed Leliana was simply toying with him, forcing him into desperation. " _I_ want the world back," she hissed instead, and slid the dagger in one clean sweep across Felix's neck. Dark blood splattered the dais, even hitting Alexius' robes, and Leliana let the dead man fall flat into a pool of his own blood.

"No," Alexius breathed in horror. " _No_!" He immediately grabbed a long spear from a nearby wall and channeled a spell through it at Leliana; the wave of magic hit her square in the chest and spymaster fell back several feet with a thud. Alexius then brandished the spear threateningly against the rest of them and howled with a rage that rung sharply in their ears -

" _You will all pay for what you've done_!"


	16. All That Was Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter, everybody!

"Alexius," Dorian protested, "that isn't-"

"Silence!" Alexius pointed the spear at him. "You don't understand; you never have, and never will! As for you..." He turned the weapon towards Leliana, who was coming to her feet. Its pointed tip began to glow, and magic crackled forth.

 _Bang!_ The magic was disrupted and the Magister pitched forward. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and his face twisted into a grimace. A shaky hand went up to his shoulder, and when taken away, was covered in blood.

"Not on my watch," Varric spat. "This shit ends right here, right now."

"Five of us against one of you," Cassandra added. "Surrender now, Alexius; give us the amulet, and we will spare your life."

The Magister chuckled bitterly. His angry eyes wandered over to the corpse of his son, and there they faltered. "Spare my life!" he hissed, and winced in pain. Looking back at those before him, his eyes hardened again. "You are all fools! You had your chance...and if you think I should cater to your whim now, simply to _spare my life_...well, I hope you enjoy what the Elder One has in store for you."

With his free hand, Alexius wrapped an arm around Felix, tenderly, as if he should fear hurting him; with the other, he gripped the shaft of his spear and struck the stone floor. A blast of green magic swept across the dais, and Alexius suddenly disappeared.

Leliana's quick eyes spotted him kneeling in a far corner of the room. "You're not going anywhere." She loosed an arrow in his direction, arcing swiftly through the hall.

The Magister averted it with a last minute barrier and lashed out with the spear again. Magic shot forth from its tip, sundering the air like a crackling thunderbolt. A loud rip sliced through the middle of the throne room, opening in its place a bright green rift. Within seconds several beams shot down to the ground, spawning a host of demons that outnumbered the group seven to five.

"This is what it has come to," Cassandra murmured, and readied her sword. "So be it!"

Varric slapped the pistol clip back into his gun and cocked it. "We'll clear the demons for you," he told Ahnnie. "You go do what you gotta do."

There was nothing she could say to him now that would be half as helpful or epic. "Stay safe," she murmured instead, squeezing his arm.

Dorian brought out his staff, the tip of which glowed with an incoming spell. Without another word, the fight began; Ahnnie and Cassandra spread out, taking on the demons to the sides, while Dorian and Varric worked on taking down or weakening the ones before them. Leliana's arrows flew in from the side, piercing the hides of the demons that threatened to surround them all.

Their enemies were a mix of terror and shade demons, with two wraiths acting as support on either side of the room. It seemed manageable enough if they played their cards right, but dotting the ground beneath them, glowing in yellow and green, were the infernal time-warp circles.

"Yellow circle!" Ahnnie shouted across to Cassandra, who, to her credit, looked down instantly and sidestepped from the circle in time.

"Behind you!" the Seeker shouted back after looking up again, and Ahnnie whirled around in time to find a shade attempting to claw her back in addition to the one she fought in front.

The girl ducked and held her glaive out horizontally, so that both swipes missed her and the rear shade impaled itself against the bladed end. When she shot back up to deal with the front one, she spun the bladed end around and stabbed it through the demon's open mouth. The thing screamed, writhed, and then faded into dust.

On Cassandra's end, the Seeker was dancing between the tall legs of a terror demon, cutting through its elongated arm as it swung down at her, slashing at its torso whenever it bent low enough. At one point, she'd come close enough to a wall displaying decorative shields. With a deftness reminiscent of her earlier days, she tore one off and pushed her weight behind it to bash the creature into stumbling backwards.

The demon shrieked and made a quick rebound. Cassandra dashed forward, aiming to slide between the legs. One of the wraith balls suddenly hit her and almost made her trip. As she stumbled a green circle formed beneath her feet and she was blinked several steps ahead of her destination. She quickly whirled around, the demon screeching behind her as an arrow pierced its shoulder, and swung a punishing slash behind a knee. The sword cut through bone and severed the limb halfway. As the demon stumbled, she made a similar cut through the other knee that brought it down. Cassandra finished off the terror demon for good with a final stab to the back.

Varric, on the other hand, tried his best not to shoot into the main tangle of things. An arrow he could easily keep track of, but bullets were practically invisible the moment they shot out of the barrel. He had thus far been engaging his ammunition against a rather hardy shade and, thanks to some of Dorian's firebolts, managed to slow it down some. Ducking aside its long claws, he came as close to it as he had dared since the fight and aimed the pistol for its head. With another bang, he blast a hole through the demon's forehead.

From the corner of his eye, the dwarf noticed Cassandra and then Dorian falling prey to one of the wraiths' magic balls. He then took it upon himself in that moment to get rid of them lest they grew too troublesome. "One down," he counted as the first wraith poofed away beneath a bullet. But just was his luck, he stepped unwittingly into a yellow circle and the wraith was back in business again. "Oh, boy..."

* * *

 

Four demons down, with Varric working on another one. That left two more to go, should the dwarf succeed.

Despite the progress, time was slipping beneath their very fingers. With each minute unmolested, the rift lay like an open doorway for creatures of the Fade to pour through; precious minutes that could have been better used for figuring out the time traveling spell. As if on cue, two more beams deposited another pair of shades into the middle of the throne room, upon which Ahnnie and Cassandra turned their attentions to when their demons were defeated.

Dorian hissed in exasperation as he twirled his staff in a series of attacks against the new shades, tearing his focus away from the terror demon he and Leliana had been working on. The graze on his shoulder stung like a bitch and his nerves were drawing thin. "This is madness, Alexius!" he reminded his former mentor for the umpteenth time. "Just stop being stubborn and give us the amulet!"

Whether the Magister heard him or not, he did not show. At any rate, no one could be bothered to check. They were too preoccupied with the more immediate threat. Despite that, Dorian made it an imperative to reach the Magister as soon as possible. Once he saw that the other four appeared to have the situation in check, he ran between the time circles to where Alexius was hiding. He performed an athlete-worthy jump over the length of a yellow circle before preparing a counter spell under his breath, intended for breaking the barrier Alexius erected around himself and his dead son.

Broken stone suddenly flew in all directions as a terror demon leapt out of a hole in front of him. Dorian gave a startled yell and skidded backwards in surprise, but before he could draw out his staff, a well timed arrow pierced the demon's stomach. Upon closer inspection, this particular terror demon was studded with arrows in multiple places.

"He seems to like you," a once-mellifluous voice remarked from behind; even beneath the hardened edge, Dorian could tell it was once pleasant to hear.

"Or maybe he doesn't like _you_ ," the mage suggested as he sent more fire the demon's way. "You're not very pleasant company to be in at the moment. Were you ever? Even as a spymaster?"

What little rapport that had been built between them suddenly melted away the moment the terror demon was finally destroyed. "Go get the amulet from him," she commanded, as stony as before. "I'll hold your back in the meantime."

"Can't argue with that." Dorian turned back to the matter at hand and recited his spell from the top. It was luckily not a long one, but neither did it require the force he assumed it needed; the moment he spoke the last word, the barrier around the Magister shattered like broken glass. _By the Maker - you'd rip a hole in the Veil to stop us from getting the amulet, but erect a weak barrier to protect yourself?_ "Have you lost your mind?" he asked aloud as he came close.

Alexius appeared to not have heard. He was hunched over Felix like a protective animal, murmuring worriedly to himself. He was so engrossed that he did not seem to notice the blood dripping from his robe onto his son's tunic. "Oh Felix, how cold you've grown - were you always this pale? How your mother's heart would break if she saw you now."

"Of course he wasn't always that pale," Dorian broke in. He had thought of taking the Magister by surprise, but lost the heart upon listening to his ravings. "Dammit, Alexius. For how long did you keep him in that state? Surely you must have known he never would have wanted it."

A jaw muscle twitched irritably in Alexius' face. "You think I would not know the mind of my own son?" So he could hear what was being said to him, after all. _He was just being a stubborn ass._

"As far as you've taken things with this time magic and Elder One? No, you didn't know a single thing."

Alexius grit his teeth and swung the spear around. "How dare you-"

Dorian blocked it effortlessly with the tip of his staff. "You're but one person, Alexius. It's all right to not know everything, to not be in control. But I suppose if you had understood that, things would not have gone as far as they have." He sighed. Suddenly, he felt so tired. "Please, for everyone's sakes, just give it up. You're not going to last long with that bullet in your shoulder." An explosion sounded from behind them, and Dorian looked back to find the rift closed. "There. The Survivor's just foiled your plans. There literally is nothing else you can do. Come now, Alexius..."

When he still didn't budge, Dorian asked, "What would Livia say if she saw you now?"

The name seemed to stir something long forgotten in the man, as his suddenly wistful face betrayed. "Livia..." His hooded eyes, framed by care lines suddenly made more evident, looked back down at his son's corpse. "Felix...what did I do to deserve losing you both?"

"Nothing, Alexius," Dorian answered solemnly. "You've done nothing at all. Misfortune just happens." He considered putting a hand on the older man's shoulder, but decided against it. "Look...I see no reason in prolonging this travesty. I know it's hard, but Felix and Livia are not coming back. I wish I could tell you that turning back time would bring them back, but even so..."

"Felix would still die," the Magister finished, bitterly.

"Well, yes."

Alexius ran a hand over his face as he shook his head. "The past, the present, the future - they are all empty for me. It is, indeed, a great travesty."

Dorian felt a pang of pity for the man. "But who knows?" he interjected. "There might still be a chance. If something that could have been done differently were to be done in the past..."

Alexius' hand slid down over his mouth, eyes thoughtful. "I think of that every day," he murmured through his fingers.

"Then you will give us the amulet?"

"Oh, _Dorian_!" The Magister laughed. "How fortunate you are, that an amulet should be the extent of your troubles. I, on the other hand, have overstayed my welcome - it must come to an end, just like all the good that's happened in my life."

Dorian frowned. "What do you mean? Alexius, do-"

But a sleek shape thrummed past Dorian's vision and materialized a second later as an arrow through Alexius' forehead. The Magister swayed and then fell across Felix's chest in a macabre cross. Blood streaked from the arrow shaft past his open eyes and down his cheeks like dark, morbid tears. Dorian stared at him open-mouthed before shooting a questioning glance back at the spymaster who had loosed the arrow.

"He was reaching for a knife in his belt," Leliana explained, voice nonchalant. "It never would have killed him fast enough. Trust me."

The Tevinter mage looked from her to Alexius, and back again. "I suppose," he agreed, but felt little satisfaction in the statement.

* * *

 

The rift had been closed all right; it just hadn't been closed as easily as Dorian believed.

While he was confronting the Magister, Cassandra turned to Ahnnie after having helped her defeat one of the two new shades. "I can handle this myself. You must head for the rift - Varric and I will cover for you."

Ahnnie nodded. "Got it."

Assured by the Seeker's promise, the girl lost no time in making for the rift. She weaved as swiftly as she could between the yellow time circles, but admitted to jumping in a few green ones to speed her progress.

Just as she got close enough, a beam suddenly shot down from the rift. It blazed and crackled directly in front of her, blinding her momentarily. When it subsided, a familiar figure came into focus through the spots in her eyes - a bedraggled young man in tattered leathers, with a wide-brimmed hat on his head and shaggy blonde hair curtaining his eyes.

"Cole! What're you doing here?" Ahnnie demanded, shocked beyond comprehension. But now was not the time for surprises. "Never mind; now that you're here, go see what you can help with! I'll take care of the rift."

It only struck her, briefly, that he had appeared from the rift in much the same manner as a demon. And in her haste, she almost failed to notice the fact that his skin held the same red tint as Cassandra and Varric's. His once-sullen eyes regarded her strangely; one could even say they were staring at her coldly. "I am not here to help you. I serve the Elder One now."

"What?"

Faster than the blink of an eye, he slid out a dagger and knocked its pommel against her wrist, startling her into releasing the glaive. Then he swung the dagger at her. Hot, jarring pain sliced across her left shoulder to her right breast, the force of which threw her off her feet and sent her skidding on her back. A cry of pain rent from her mouth all the way down to her landing.

" _Fuck!_ " she cried again, torn between hugging her wound and the accursed stinging it made with every move. "Jesus _Christ_ -" She tried raising herself up by an elbow, faltered, and fell. "Why?" she ground out as Cole paced steadily towards her. "You helped me before...why are you doing this now?" Her question was choked to a gasp as a rough hand forced her up by the collar.

"Because I am bound," he answered. His dagger hand then moved forward to make the plunge.

By some miracle, Ahnnie managed to catch hold of his wrist mere inches away from her abdomen. It took both hands and all her might to keep it at bay, muscles protesting with the strain. Even so, she was slipping. There was only one way she could survive in such an event, but that way was traumatic and unthinkable; yet, it was the only thing she possibly had left to her. Tears welling in her eyes, she looked up at the heartless face of the spirit, demon, person, whatever it was that stood before her now - "Please...don't make me do this..."

He moved the dagger ever closer.

"You at least remember me?" she asked, desperate. "You helped me escape from Envy - remember?"

His hand hesitated a bit. She swore she could feel it! "I don't know what this Elder One wants you to do," she went on, "but please, Cole; remember that we weren't enemies. You tried to hel-"

The bite of cold metal tore through her stomach, straight in the middle. "I am not here to help you," the young man reiterated, as coldly as the blade of his dagger. "What once may have been is forever lost to me."

Ahnnie's words froze half-formed in her mouth with barely the strength for the smallest squeak. _Is this for real?_ She simply couldn't believe; it was happening so fast. Never had she expected to see Cole again, and in this scenario especially. Her neck craned upwards as laborious as an unoiled hinge, and tears of pain and grief fell freely from her eyes. Closing her lips together, she could do nothing more than purse them tightly. _I'm sorry._

She closed her eyes and tapped willingly, regretfully, into the familiar fire deep within her.

As soon as heat flooded into her palm, she ripped her sparking left hand from Cole's wrist and thrust it into his chest. He was solid, that much she could attest to. He could also feel pain, as his guttural cries showed her, echoing on and on in her spinning head. Ahnnie only shut her eyes tighter, refusing to witness the torment she was forcing upon another living being, however supernatural. She screamed a moment later as the dagger rudely exited her, a pain that was exacerbated as she fell forward along with Cole.

One hand on his chest, the other gripping her wound, her eyes fluttered open to find him quietly dying. The wild flares of her mark continued to dance and crackle, but the young man beneath her showed no outward sign of pain beyond the strain in his eyes. His bloodied dagger had fallen off to the side, gleaming eerily in the green light.

"I'm sorry," she panted. "I can't...take it off..."

Cole's lips moved as if to form words, but none could be heard. Then his eyes clouded over, blue-grey dulling to dead stone, and his lids slowly closed, stopping halfway. Unlike what she expected, his body became less and less substantial until it faded into nothing, and her left hand sank crackling-hot onto the stone floor. It was as though he had never been there in the first place. She blinked dazedly at the spot before chancing a look up to see his dagger still on the floor.

_Whoever, or whatever you are - were...I wish it had ended differently._

"Ahnnie, the rift!" Cassandra's voice reminded her.

The girl's head shot up at that and she struggled to her feet. Pain lanced through her anew and made her tighten the grip over her stomach, but with an agonizing push, she stood a little straighter and raised her left hand. The mark still sputtered hungrily, having been robbed of a focal point, and the beam practically tore itself from her palm. Gritting her teeth, she did her best to bull through the screams of her aching muscles.

When the rift eventually burst into nothing, she heaved a sigh of relief and wilted to the ground. Nausea rose in accordance with the mounting dizziness and darkness swam at the edges of her vision. Determined to weather it out despite the odds, she sucked in a slow breath and willed herself to not think of her wounds.

"Here, let me help."

Ahnnie looked up to find Cassandra's hand extended towards her and accepted it gratefully. The Seeker pulled her up, firm but gentle, and handed her the fallen glaive. The girl held it in her free hand for support and felt Cassandra's arm envelope her other shoulder for good measure. "Thanks," she whispered.

Cassandra nodded in acknowledgement and led her away.

* * *

 

Dorian knelt by the two corpses, face somber and distant. His eyes latched onto the dead Magister in particular. _He wanted to die, didn't he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications...he lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh, Alexius! Once you were a man to whom I compared all others. Sad, isn't it?_

With a sigh, the Tevinter mage pushed those thoughts away and dug into his former mentor's pockets. It was strange, going from revering the man to fighting him and now, looting his corpse. He half expected Alexius to suddenly awaken and reprimand him, but alas - what is dead usually stays dead. He pulled out the cubic amulet a moment later and straightened up with it in hand.

"This is the same amulet he used before," he told Leliana. "I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous. That's a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift."

"An hour?" Leliana asked incredulously. "That's impossible! You must go now!"

"Indeed," Cassandra agreed from across the room, her voice booming behind them. "She may not have much time left."

"Who?" Dorian inquired, and whirled around to see the bleeding girl lying on the steps of the dais. "Maker's breath!"

Ahnnie looked over at him and forced a weak smile, too tired to make a response of adequate volume.

"No...no, no, no, no, _no..._ " He immediately rushed over to her with Leliana on his tail. Once there, he took her hand away from her stomach, his own already curling at the sight of the blood. "Blast it all! This is going to be a beast to heal..." Even so, he brought out his staff. He frowned as he chanted a few words, and the staff glowed white, but faded and died away a moment later. "Damn it. Damn it all! I can't think of any healing spells for something this deep...and that's not counting her chest..."

He could tell by the smile in Ahnnie's eyes that she felt bad for him. "I kind of felt it heal a little," she put in sympathetically, to little effect.

A muffled boom interrupted them, echoing from beyond the throne room's walls. The world suddenly shook and trembled, sending down a shower of dust and stones from the ceiling. Leliana looked up at the vibrating walls and grimaced at Dorian. "The Elder One."

Cassandra and Varric had their gazes glued upwards as well, bringing them back down to exchange knowing glances when the quake subsided. A subtle understanding seemed to pass between them, as Cassandra showed with a light nod to the dwarf.

"We'll hold the main door," Varric then offered. "Once they break through, it's all you, Nightingale."

Ahnnie gaped at him with a horrified expression. "No..."

"Hey, we'll be all right," he assured her with a smile. "Whatever happens to us now will be reversed the moment you go back in time. Piece of cake."

 _Easier said than done,_ Dorian thought ruefully, the weight of the amulet in his hand more pressing now than ever.

Leliana turned down the hall, as did Cassandra and Varric. "You have as much time as I have arrows," the spymaster said, and both Dorian and Ahnnie watched their backs as they made for the throne room doors. The doors were more easily accessible from inside than out, giving way beneath a simple pull. Cassandra and Varric slipped beyond them while Leliana stayed behind to hold a firm position twenty feet away. The last thing to be heard was the thud of the doors closing automatically and their creaking mechanisms locking back into place.

The Tevinter mage tore his gaze away from there and back to the girl who people called Herald of Andraste. In Tevinter, she was known as the Survivor. _Maker, she's growing whiter by the minute. I only hope whatever stabbed her hit nothing important._ This distinction, he knew, made the difference between an extra few minutes to hours of life. "Bear with me here," he pleaded. "I'll work this out as fast as I can. In the meantime...try not to sleep, will you?"

Ahnnie nodded. "I'll try," she whispered, but her movements were already growing sluggish.

With that insurance, however weak, Dorian set to work. He brought out the amulet and channeled his mana into it, guided by the chants in Tevene he had memorized so long ago as part of the formula. The amulet floated before him, enveloped in a green-blue glow. Having activated it, he now shifted his focus on reversing the spell that had brought them here. Like a thief picking a lock, he navigated through the intricate workings of the spell, trying to the best of his ability to find that one combination that would click things into place. Occupied thus, time was nonexistent to him.

"It's getting cold," Ahnnie suddenly rasped.

"Shh, I know," Dorian murmured. Fresh sweat beaded on his brow. _Come on. You're getting closer. That's it..._

Another period of silence ensued. He looked at her from the corner of his eye whenever he remembered to, but always regretted doing so. The color was leaving her lips and she was mumbling incoherent things. Shaking his head, he threw himself back into the matter of his spell. _Almost..._

A muffled thrumming pulsed beyond the throne room, followed by a loud bash against the doors. The sound made Dorian jolt, but still he continued to work. He was just so _close._

Leliana's voice suddenly echoed against the vaulted ceiling. "Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame," she prayed as she notched an arrow and raised her bow.

The doors pulsed again, and on the third try, they burst open. The bodies of Cassandra and Varric were roughly thrown aside as a group of Venatori and demons entered the hall. Leliana loosed her arrow upon the slightest sign of entry, followed by an entire volley, toiling nonstop to hold them back.

"Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side."

Dorian furrowed his brows together as he tried to shut away the noise. Just one more component, and he would have it.

The spymaster let out a scream of pain as something struck her, yet from what Dorian could hear she still fought valiantly. The Andrastian prayers were replaced by grunts and screams of effort, indicative of a rough struggle the sight of which he refused to witness.

His eyes were transfixed instead on the floating amulet. It was starting to glow with a brighter intensity. A dark green shimmer passed through the air around it, punctuated by streaks of light like miniature lightning bolts. Heart pounding, Dorian stepped back with a look of pure joy on his face. "Finally, I've done it!" he cried triumphantly.

Without much of a thought to sensitivity, he hefted the limp Ahnnie to her feet, stuffed the glaive into her arms, and shoved her into the swirling emerald rift that flashed open a split second later. And without so much as a single look back, he jumped in after her.

* * *

 

Ahnnie gasped as she fell through flashing lights once more. Beyond the subsequent tunnel of darkness was the bright crackle of firelight, and she emerged into it gasping like a fish out of water. So uncoordinated was she that she stumbled straight into the chest of Magister Gereon Alexius himself. A strong hand from the side, however, pulled her away.

She screamed, half expecting a fresh eruption of pain across her chest and stomach. But none came. Blinking confusedly, she felt herself over. "My wounds!" she cried. "They're gone!"

"You were wounded?" Cassandra's confused voice demanded, and Ahnnie whirled around to find the Seeker just as she remembered her, dressed in armor with short choppy hair and no red glows on her face.

"You all right, kiddo?" Varric asked next. His voice was not more hoarse than necessary and he, too, was devoid of the red lyrium's taint.

"Cassandra! Varric!" Ahnnie spread her arms wide and crushed them both into a hug. She felt so happy she could cry. "I'm alive, and you guys are okay!"

Cassandra's mouth opened and closed in utter bewilderment. "Wh-what are you doing?" she spluttered, uncomfortably aware of the rogue dwarf's shoulder jammed against her arm in the embrace. The Inquisition agents in the room as well as Grand Enchanter Fiona stared curiously at the spectacle, adding more to the Seeker's consternation.

Solas stepped forward to tap the overjoyed girl on the shoulder. "Ahnnie? Whatever may have happened, I think now's not the time fo-"

" _Solas_!" She tore away from the other two and latched onto him with the same ferocity. The elf jolted in surprise, almost losing hold of his staff, and stayed frozen in place for several moments before recovering enough to squeeze his arms free for a gentle, albeit puzzled, reciprocation.

The Inquisition soldier in the envoy tentatively approached, a concerned look aimed the Herald of Andraste's way. Just as he was reaching for her, Varric stopped him with a light chuckle. "Careful, or you might get smothered by a spontaneous hug," the dwarf joked. The soldier paused, chuckled back, and stepped away as Ahnnie extricated herself anyway.

Dorian had exited the rift not too long after her, the magic of which was fading away by the second. He watched the wholesome scene unfold with a light smile beneath his mustache before turning around to face the astonished gawk of his former mentor. "You'll have to do better than that," was his best retort - after that harrowing experience, he had not the creative juices to make any sort of witty comeback. He felt empty, almost bland.

The Magister's previous tough exterior then cracked before his very eyes. With a disheartened slump, Alexius slid to his knees, eyes downcast. "You've won," he croaked. "There is no point in extending this charade." Raising his head, he cast his sad gaze over to his son. "Felix..."

The young man came over to his father and knelt before him. "It's going to be all right, Father," Felix assured him.

Alexius shook his head. "You'll die."

"Everyone dies," Felix murmured.

The Magister's eyes narrowed in pain. With a trembling hand, he raised it to Felix's face and gave the young man a gentle stroke on the cheek. Two Inquisition agents approached in that moment and stopped directly behind him. Resolutely, Alexius heaved himself to his feet, and the agents at first tensed, expecting retaliation - when he turned around, his hands held before him and his expression morose, they relaxed again and took him away. Felix accompanied the procession out the audience hall like an obedient puppy.

Dorian sighed and turned away, back to the happy Survivor chattering away with her companions. From her heated voice, he guessed she was recounting the details of their time traveling adventure. A smile tickling the corner of his mouth, he strode over to them and thumped a hand on her shoulder. "Well," he huffed, "I'm glad that's over with!"

Ahnnie whirled around in surprise and gave Dorian a grin. "You said it. We didn't turn into paste, which is even better! Come on, I'll tell you the rest outside," she said to the others. "I don't want to stay in this castle another minute."

"Neither do I," Dorian agreed with a long stretch of his arms, and noted, appreciatively, the absence of the bullet graze on his shoulder.

* * *

 

Ahnnie's story would have been dismissed as nothing more than pure fancy had not Dorian chimed in with the same details. It took a few hours to explain everything, yet even after it was done, there was the sense that it had not been taken a hundred percent seriously. Easy enough for those who never experienced it; all they saw was the portal, the disappearance, some angered yelling, and then the pair's reappearance less than a minute later. The implications of a chaotic future under the Elder One, however, was not lost on any of their questioners.

Only one thing was purposefully left out, and that was the part where Ahnnie acquired her wounds. Dorian swore up and down that they had caused her major blood loss, and when asked what caused them, the girl was quick to shift the blame on a demon. Perhaps in a way, she wasn't wrong. However, like before, the mystery of Cole eluded her. Dorian hadn't seen him either, so who would believe her if she told them a shaggy young man no one ever laid eyes on was the culprit?

And maybe, somehow, she hoped that in having prevented such a future in the first place, Cole - whoever and wherever he was - would not become corrupted. In that case, she saw no harm in failing to mention him. At least now she knew he wasn't a figment of her imagination.

That having been established, it was now time to renew the possibility of alliance with the rebel mages, this time negotiating with their true leader, Grand Enchanter Fiona. After giving Ahnnie two days off to recuperate her senses at the Crossroads, the Inquisition went back to Redcliffe village. The way was refreshingly smooth and free of strange rifts.

Yet before their party could be accommodated at the Gull and Lantern, another procession cut through the village with liveried soldiers and loud fanfare. At its head was a regally dressed couple, sitting astride two magnificent steeds of impeccable breeding. They reined in their mounts at the village square and swept their gazes across the people assembled there.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona," the man spoke out, his voice booming authoritatively, "we'd like to discuss your abuse of our hospitality."

Ahnnie looked from the couple to Fiona, a puzzled look on her face. "What's going on? Who are they?" she whispered to Cassandra.

The Seeker's face was grim. "They are King Alistair and Queen Anora of Ferelden. I suspect they are here on behalf of the arl."

 _Whoa...royalty? They don't look so happy._ Ahnnie then watched as Fiona came forward with her head held low. If ever she was a little woman, she seemed even smaller now. "Your Majesties," she humbly addressed.

"When we offered the mages sanctuary, we did not give them the right to drive our people from their homes," the woman, Queen Anora, reproached harshly.

Fiona cupped her hands together in a pleading gesture. "King Alistair, Queen Anora, I assure you, we never intended-"

"In light of your actions, good intentions are no longer enough," Queen Anora interrupted, eyes narrowing at the Grand Enchanter.

"You and your followers have worn out your welcome," King Alistair continued. "Leave Ferelden, or we'll be forced to make you leave."

Fiona's mouth dropped wide open. "Leave Ferelden! But...we have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?" Behind her, a surrsurrus of worried murmurs swept through the mages present like wildfire, as if to amplify her concerns. Outside of Ferelden, they would be hard pressed to find anyone willing to accommodate apostates. It was difficult enough even within borders. With this banishment, they were all doomed.

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip, looking from the royal couple to the Grand Enchanter. "Well," she piped up slowly, a suggestive lilt in her tone, "the Inquisition _did_ come here for mage help to seal the Breach..."

Fiona turned to her, half hopeful, half fearful. "And what are the terms of the arrangement?" she asked uncertainly. The negotiations, it seemed, would take place here in the square rather than the Gull and Lantern.

"Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you," a lighthearted voice said from the crowd. "The Inquisition _is_ better than that, yes?"

"Of course it is, Dorian," Ahnnie answered, loud enough for everyone to hear. She looked back into the press of people and spotted his mustached face beaming back at her. 

"I would conscript them," Cassandra decided. "They've proven what they'll do, given too much freedom." She aimed a sharp glance towards the Enchanter, still not over the fact that she had allied with Tevinter.

Varric's brows furrowed in concern. "Now, look," he interjected, "I've known a lot of mages. They can be loyal friends if you let them. Friends who make bad decisions, but still. Loyal."

Ahnnie frowned, having not expected such stark opinions at once. Feeling lost, she found herself instinctively looking towards Solas, who gave her an encouraging smile. "Do what you think feels right, da'len," he murmured to her. "You are not bound by any of us to follow our decisions. And, you know, you can be more than just a figurehead for the Inquisition. Why don't you give it a try?"

She glanced nervously at Cassandra. "I..."

"You'll never know until you try."

"Some bad decisions lead to irreparable consequences," Cassandra was saying to Varric when Ahnnie returned her attention to the matter at hand. "After she hears of what the Herald and Tevinter mage went through in that rift, I am sure Leliana would also agree with my decision. As for Commander Cullen, he had cast his ballot for the Templars from the beginning."

Fiona could see the direction in which the negotiations were going quite plainly. "Very well, then," she said, taking it with as much dignity as possible. "As things stand, we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer."

"W-wait!" Ahnnie called out; and then blushed when she realized she didn't have to yell. "Um, I disagree with conscription."

"You would openly interrupt your leader?" Queen Anora suddenly asked.

Ahnnie felt her heart skip a beat. _Oh my god. A queen_ _just talked to me. A freaking_ queen! _Don't screw this up, don't screw this up..._ "W-well," she began, "I don't mean to be rude...but, if anything, I would like her to reconsider." She chanced a tiny glance at Cassandra from the corner of her eye, and then looked over at the Grand Enchanter. "Bad decisions are bad decisions...but the Enchanter did what she did out of fear. Fear for the safety of the mages, who counted, and still do count, on her as leader. God; er, Maker knows, many would have done the same in her position.

"As far as I know, the disaster has been averted - the Magister arrested, the Venatori purged. Plus, no one would have willingly gone with Tevinter if Magister Alexius didn't manipulate things the way he did. Grand Enchanter Fiona and the rest of the mages deserve another chance as allies." _Just as I got another chance,_ she silently added, suddenly relating to Fiona more than she had when they first arrived in Redcliffe. The image of the Enchanter locked in crystals of red lyrium flashed through her mind again, along with the sound of her pitiful groans. _I'm so sorry I was ever upset with you. I, of all people, should've known what you were going through._

Ahnnie half expected a period of awkward silence to follow her sudden outburst. Instead, Cassandra said not too long after the last word, "We will discuss this later." Her tone was not as disapproving as Ahnnie had expected, either.

"Baby steps, da'len," Solas whispered into her ear when, at last, the spotlight was given back to the Seeker and the royals. "Just one step at a time, until it becomes a natural pace. You did well today."

"Did I really?" Ahnnie whispered back.

Dorian broke in between them before Solas could make his reply. "And what conspiracy are you both cooking up, hm? I thought we were past the need for secrecy by now."

Ahnnie opened her mouth, closed it, and laughed. "Maybe I'll tell you later," she promised with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

* * *

 

The Inquisition departed from Redcliffe early the next day. In their company followed the hundreds of mages whom Fiona had worried about providing protection for. The village of Redcliffe watched their backs as they left, whispering rumors and stirring speculations on the mages' pending status with the Inquisition. Either way, they could all rest a little easier now; their arl would soon be coming back to them from Denerim.

Ten days later, the Inquisition arrived at Haven. An uproar of surprise ensued when the larger than life convoy arrived at the gates. No one had expected _all_ the rebel mages to come at once...except maybe for a certain spymaster, who had been properly alerted by raven many days prior.

Whatever the differing opinions of the citizens and allies at Haven, the Inquisition could now get down to work. Their efforts lay focused on a distant point of the sky, where the clouds swirled stormily and the air glowed green.

They were now ready to take on the Breach.


End file.
